Love at First Feel
by NoSpankYou
Summary: Waiting for the next job, the boys find themselves killing time in a small town and just might be surprised at what they uncover...if they can come to their senses before it's too late.  NOT a Wincest. Smut alert! It's rated M for a reason folks.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **_I do not own these characters and no copyright infringement is intended. As a reader, if you're looking for "Wincest", you will NOT find it here...unless you feel that term envelopes the concept of the brothers being with the same girl, quite possibly at the same time. I would like to thank PTB for all of his help with the Metallicar details...having someone with passion for the subject provide information is so insightfully helpful. I would also like to thank moira4eku for pointing out that Dean's eyes aren't actually brown. After making the sacrifice of looking at hundreds of pictures of him (I almost got dehydrated from all the drool) and searching reliable sources online I have made the necessary changes. Throughout the story, you will find songs that, due to copyright crap, I am not allowed to quote lyrics from. If you don't know the song or the lyrics, I encourage you to check them out - they DO hold clues. __This is my first story and have already worked out details for many chapters from beginning to end...please review and let me know what you think - good, bad or indifferent.__

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**Chapter 1**

A beacon pushing through the dark, still night, the Impala sped along through the Oklahoma flat lands. It felt much like they'd been driving forever and in the grand scheme of things, if you're on the road more than you're off it, it's close enough to forever to qualify. At the moment, things are quiet. They've been waiting for the next thing that needs to die to work its way to the surface so they can do what they do best. These are the times they live for, but these can also be the times that make them the most nervous – the calm before the storm they know is out there because they can smell it...but it just can't be seen.

The boys had been enjoying companionable silence for the last hour...quite a stretch for these two – especially Dean who can't seem to stand the idea of it. Maybe it's the fact that the quiet times are when his mind chooses to rehash the past and all the atrocities it's held. Maybe it's that the silence all too often summons the What If's. What if we were normal? What if we just stopped all this craziness and started living real lives? What if we didn't know what we know? Pointless questions that had no real answers because once the reality was examined, it was always the same conclusion: It doesn't matter because it's NOT possible.

"Hey, you wanna call it a night," Sam broke the silence. "You're looking beat and I'm starting to get hungry."

"Sure...I was thinking we could pull into Fairview – according to the sign a mile or so back it should be another three miles or so up the road," Dean replied, rolling his neck in an attempt to ease the stress from the drive.

They fell comfortably back into silence while the flat, empty landscape rushed past them. In no time at all, a small town appeared on the horizon – a speck of refuge in a sea of desolation. Dean eased off the gas pedal and let the Impala slip into an idling roll. As they began rolling down Main Street, they could see the time on the bank clock read "8:39 PM"; not late really, but by small town standards they knew their window of opportunity for sustenance was rapidly closing. It was only Thursday and most local businesses rolled up the sidewalks by 7:00 p.m. Most restaurants might stay open until 9:00 if they were lucky.

Like so many small towns, Fairview's main thoroughfare was lined with two- and three-story brick and cinder block buildings. There'd been an obvious attempt at refurbishing the facades and, despite the more modern niceties like electronic door locks and neon "Open" signs, they gave that feeling that you've stepped back in time. As always, the brothers took their perspective sides to scope out the lay of the land. Sam quickly added the businesses on his side to his mental inventory – First Savings and Trust of Fairview, Roth Insurance Agency, Admiral Real Estate, Second Chance Thrift Shop and two empty businesses. Both empties had matching "Space for Rent" signs. All of the businesses were completely dark with the exception of the bank's security lighting. Dean has scanned his side and spotted what they were looking for instantly – it was the only business with the lights still on. He coasted past Ed's Barber Shop, Bailey Finance, and Bryant, Ball & Langley, attorneys at law. The name on the attorney's office made him instantly want to break into the Three Stooges bit about Wee, Cheatum and Howe, but he refrained. He parked the Impala in front of Goldie's Hardware which shared a common wall with the pay dirt – Our Place Diner. There were cars lined up in front of the little diner all the way down to the building on the end which displayed a shingle that read, "Peter Peterman, Taxes and Accounting". How original...his parents obviously didn't put much effort into stretching their imaginations when it they named this poor sap. Dean absently wondered how the guy made it out of middle school alive with a $2 handle like that one.

"They're open, but we'd better get in there quick before they decide not to take any new customers," Dean said as he started opening the door while simultaneously pocketing the keys. Suddenly his stomach grumbled with a hunger he hadn't realized was there before, forcing his weariness to take a backseat.

Without further discussion, the boys walked down the sidewalk and into the diner. Both took note of the sign on the door that proclaimed closing time as 9:00 pm. They were quietly thankful they've made it in time. Walking through the door, they were struck by the smell that all greasy spoons like this one have...and instantly had a feeling of home. Booths lined the wall to their left and tables scattered throughout the space on their right. The room had been arranged so there was a clear path from the door to the cash register.

_Probably for those customers in a hurry for lunchtime take-out_, Sam thought.

As they made their way to an open booth in the back, they ignored the eyes of the locals following them. This was a scene they had been through too many times to count and as familiar to them as the conglomeration of scents wafting from the kitchen.

They sat across from each other, Sam facing the door. Within seconds of their weight pressing the air from the cushioned booth seats, a waitress was at their tableside placing tiny glasses of water in front of them. As she began pulling two sets of silverware rolled tightly in napkins from her apron, Dean glances up at her to make a quick assessment of her placement on the "Doability Scale". Her uniform, which looked like something out of a 1960's soda shop – red and white stripped button-down shirt and white skirt that just touched the top of her knees – flattered her figure. Her name tag pinned just below her collar on the left side of her blouse announced that her name was Meranda. She's somewhat tall with long, dark chestnut hair that fell to her waist and her greenish-blue eyes stood out from her fair complexion. She wasn't drop-dead beautiful, but not homely either. She possessed that girl-next-door aura that usually appealed more to Sammy, but Dean wouldn't complain about if he happened upon. After careful consideration and a glance around the room in search of other prospects, Dean decided that she fell into the "Doable" category. Without noticing she'd been assessed, she quickly removed the menus she'd been holding to her body with her elbow and hands them over.

"Can I get you boys anything to drink while you decide?" she asked, flashing a tired, cheerful smile.

Sam noticed that her voice carried no discernible accent, which he found a little out of the ordinary. This wasn't his first time through small towns in Oklahoma and he knew that most of the locals had at least a tinge of southern drawl to their vernacular. It wasn't uncommon for people outside of small towns to move into one, but generally they were older. Typically it seemed that the indigenous folks, at least the younger ones, were all doing their level best to get out. She appeared to be young enough to be one of those so the lack of accent seemed out of place.

They ordered soft drinks, thanked her, and then turned their attention to the menus as she turned and walked away.

"OH! They've got a bacon triple cheeseburger! A triple! I gotta get me some that!" Dean exclaimed. Bacon always had a way of exciting him...and burgers...put the two together and Dean would be on the verge of spontaneous orgasm. The thought of his dream in triplicate? Well, that was just almost more than he could handle without needing a shower afterward.

"Cool...I can listen to your arteries harden while we eat – dinner AND entertainment," Sam quipped back.

"Look, Healthy Herman, lettuce and tomato belong on a bun, surrounded by their friends Burger and Bacon...and a threesome with their pal Cheese isn't frowned upon either...NOT in a bowl or on a plate drowned in that crap you call dressing. If it wants to be dressed, it needs to come to my side of the table." Dean was, as usual, verbally visual in his descriptions.

He was about to continue his assault on Sam's healthy choices when the waitress appeared with their drinks. With the swift, smooth motions that only a seasoned waitress seems endowed with, she placed the drinks, supplied them with straws and produced an order pad and pen in what seemed like one fluid move.

Dean was taken by the grace she displayed in the seamless transition of actions. He found himself looking at her again. This time taking in the shape of her nose and mouth, the contours of her face, the ample bosom that somehow escaped his gaze before - yet he didn't know how as her cleavage was right there on display...he must be slipping or maybe just plain tired. Either way, the realization that Sam and the waitress were staring at him while he was staring at her chest crept over him. His eyes, wide, darted from her breasts to her face to Sam's face and back to her face; Sam's smugly content smile causing the heat in Dean's face to rise even more.

Clearing her throat, she blushed and self-consciously lowered her head. Gazing back up at Dean, she smiled a shy smile and asked, "So what can I get for you tonight?"

Dean just sat there, the embarrassment slowly fading, with his soft hazel-brown eyes locked on her green-blue ones, clammed up. Sam's brow furrowed in curiosity as he smiled taking in the scene. Dean is rarely speechless, especially when there's a bacon triple cheeseburger to be had. Sam decided to break the silence. With a little chuckle, he began to order. The sound of his voice seemed to break the spell these two appeared to have on each other.

Clearing her throat again, she shook herself a bit. The motion must have also cleared her head as she began writing Sam's order on the pad, offering him choices of dressings, side dishes and preparation options. Once Sam finished, all eyes in their little group turned back to Dean who had opened his menu and was effectively hiding his face with it. Both Sam and Meranda attempted to hide their smiles. Meranda had more success than Sam in this endeavor...perhaps because she was shy, but more than likely because Sam was enjoying the sight of his normally calm, cool and collected brother squirm.

Finally finding his composure, Dean ordered his trifecta of indulgence with a side of fries and, of course, a slice of pie for dessert. Meranda took everything down on her pad, took the menus and then quietly took her leave. Once she was out of earshot, Dean shot a look across the table at Sammy who was grinning - all but bouncing with joy at his brother's discomposure.

Dean's brow creased. His lips pursed and he let out a deep sigh.

Sam broke into a laugh, "What?" Then more quietly, "You gotta admit, Dean, that was pretty impressive for you. Since when do you have trouble communicating with those of the female persuasion?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm just tired. Hey, I think she's cute though...you know, like doable cute. What do you think?"

"I think that we've not been here a hot half hour and you're already looking to mark territory. How long did you wanna stay here?"

Dean gave a half-shrug. "A few days maybe? Maybe longer. It's kinda perfect since we're less than 20 miles from four other states, don't ya think? I mean, if anything happens in Texas, New Mexico, Kansas or Colorado we just point our asses in that direction and we're across the state line in no time."

That was true enough...Fairview, Oklahoma was 20 miles from all four of these borders. It was also in the middle of nowhere. Plus, being between jobs meant that they'd have some true down time when they could relax a bit, catch up with Bobby and maybe sampling a little of the local flavor wasn't exactly off the menu, so to speak. Sam raised his eyebrows and gave a slight nod to the side in silent agreement. They sat mostly in congenial silence taking in their surroundings. Random comments about the locals and the town itself were passed until Meranda reappeared with their food.

She put their orders in front of them, pulled a bottle of ketchup from her apron and asked, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Sam's eyes instantly shot from his plate to his brother's face, his lips curled in a sly smile. He tilted his head inquisitively.

"Uh...um..." Dean stammered. "Do you know if there's like a um...hotel here in town maybe? We were thinking about staying here for a day or two."

Sam's gaze followed Dean's to Meranda's face which lit up with a sincere smile. Her body language hinted that her timidity had melted away, at least a little.

"Sure!" she replied, "There's the E&L Motel just a few blocks up. Just go right up the road here and make a left onto Hoffman – that's the second street on your left. Down a little ways, you'll see Mick's Grandboy Bar on the left and the E&L's across the street from it on the right. You can't miss it."

Now that she'd said more than the waitress script, Sam thought he could hear more of what he'd expected – a slight southern elocution that was common to the area. She opened her mouth to say more when the overweight but clean cut older man from behind the order window interrupted her.

"Meranda! I'm already gonna be here 'til 9:30! Stop all that chit-chattin', girl! I wanna be home before 10:00!"

By this time, the boys were the only customers left. It was obvious that if it was up to the cook, they'd have taken their meals to go.

Meranda brandished a tight-lipped smile, raised her index finger in a "just a minute" gesture in Dean's direction, and turned on her heels to head toward the kitchen.

"Joe, you don't have to be rude, you know. I was just being poli..." her voice trailed off as she left the dining area.

The brothers exchanged matching raised eyebrow expressions and half-shrugs then turned their focus on the food in front of them. Their meal was consumed in silence as they savored the quelling of their hunger.

In less than fifteen minutes, their meals were finished and Dean was scraping the last of the apple pie filling from his dessert plate. He tossed his fork onto plate and slid it away from him. Almost synchronal, they both leaned back and let out deep sighs of satisfaction. As if on cue, Meranda emerged from the kitchen, their bill in hand. Laying it on the table face down, she looked at them both.

"I'm sorry about Joe. He can be a little...grumpy. I don't believe he's come to terms with his station in life," she said, smiling apologetically.

"Oh, it's nothin'," Dean shot back at her with a half-smile. "Hey, uh...what about this Mikey's place?"

"You mean, Mick's Grandboy?"

"Yeah...you said it's across from the hotel. Is it still open?"

"It's about the only thing that is at this time Sunday through Thursday."

"Would you like to grab a drink? From the sounds of Joe back there, you guys should be outta here in no time, right?"

"I'm actually ready to leave now...I just need to grab my stuff. If you want to pay this, I'll meet you out front and you guys can follow me."

"Oh, I uh...I really don't know that I'm up to a nightcap, Dean," Sam said. "I could get us checked in while you guys go over and grab a drink."

Seeing his brother's attempt at avoiding Third Wheel Syndrome and selfishly trying to oblige him, Dean replied, "Hey, sounds like a plan."

After paying the bill, they headed out the door to find Meranda sitting her car parked beside the Impala. The red '88 Cavalier had seen its better days, but on a waitress' salary in such a small town, how could she complain? Since the car wasn't out front when they arrived, she'd obviously been parked behind the building – especially since she hadn't left through the front door as they had.

"I figured this must be you since it's the only one left," she said, nodding her head towards the Impala.

Normally Dean would have gone into his spiel about the Impala's beauty, making sure to list her status as his "baby", but this time he just smiled and nodded, transfixed again on her eyes. Somehow she looked different...maybe it was the different location or possibly the condition of her vehicle made her appear more attractive...or perhaps Dean just needed to get laid and had locked his sights on her. She wasn't swooning over him so it wasn't like he knew it was a sure thing and would've felt no need to pour on more charm. Sam quietly chuckled as he observed his brother's lack of smooth.

"Well, if you're ready...follow me." She tilted her head slightly and smiled.

Just as she'd relayed earlier, they took the second left. Instantly they could see the neon signs on both sides of the road ahead of them – E & L Motel in green and Mick's Grandboy Bar in blue. As they got closer, it was clear that both establishments were a far cry from being new.

The bar was an old cinder block building that, even in the security lighting, showed it was in dire need of painting. The parking lot was littered with potholes. The railroad ties that had been set up as outlines for the parking lot were all askew – more than likely victims of patrons who'd been too plastered to remember that reverse came before drive on the steering column. Meranda pulled in and parked.

The motel wasn't in much better shape. It was comprised of tiny cinder block cottages set in a semi-circle with the office nestled in the middle of the "U" at the very back of the drive. The buildings at the front of the drive were smallest and each one progressively grew in size with the office being the largest version of the cottages. There were eight rooms in all and the grassy section of the "U" was home to a shuffle board game, picnic tables, two grills and a makeshift attempt at a flower bed. There was a sign beside the office with a single word, POOL, and an arrow directing swimmers to the rear of the building. The lights were on inside the office, which was obviously doubling as the owner's home. Pulling up to the designated parking area in front of it, Dean parked and tossed Sam the keys.

"Don't wait up," he said through a smug grin.

"Do I ever?" Sam asked with a slight scoff.

They got out of the car and went opposite directions – Dean towards the bar and Sam towards the office. Dean could see Meranda leaning against the trunk of her car, looking at her feet as if they were the most interesting things in the lot. Compared to her surroundings, she was probably right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** _I do not own these characters and no copyright infringement is intended. __Please, read, enjoy and review! This is the beta read, updated version so all editing errors should have been corrected. If you see something, please, let me know! :)

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**Chapter 2**

Dean trotted across the street, barely noticing the speed he was picking up as the distance between them closed. He had caught her eye before he'd reached the end of the motel's drive and she hadn't taken her eyes off him since. Once again, they were swept up into the allure of each other. Briefly, Dean acknowledged to himself the unspoken exchange that was taking place, but the thought was so fleeting that it barely had time to form any cohesion. Instead, he found himself thinking only of how he was going to get through this without sounding like a mindless idiot.

Her head was lowered and she was looking up at him, smiling and gently biting her lower lip. As he reached her, she readjusted herself on the trunk, not quite standing, but no longer leaning as much.

Without speaking, Dean stepped closer...close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. He could smell the scents of the diner on her and absently wondered if she would taste of them too.

"Hi..." he said softly, smiling at her.

She smiled back, put her hand on his chest and gently laughed, her breath caressing his face. "Hi...," she whispered through her own smile.

Never breaking eye contact, Dean brought one hand up and covered hers with it. The other hand rose slowly to her shoulder and glided under her hair to the back of her head. He pulled her gently toward him. When their lips met, they both sighed with satisfaction.

Her lips were full. Her mouth was soft...warm and wet...sweet.

Under the smells of the diner, he caught the deliciously clean aroma of her shampoo and soap.

The kiss deepened and as the fire between them grew, Meranda gradually pressed her body into Dean's with apparent longing. Slowing the kiss, Dean gently pulled away, his breath catching in his throat when he tried to speak.

"What...what is this?" he breathed in amazement.

Panting she answered, "I don't know, but it feels…right...and I like it."

Her soft, warm hands had moved to his neck. She pulled him forward, pressing his hungry mouth against her own again. As she kissed him tenderly, Dean responded in kind. When their mouths parted again, the sounds of their ragged breathing seemed loud to their ears.

Dean could hear the muted sounds of the Scorpions belting out "No One Like You" from inside the bar.

Laughing under his breath, Dean asked, "Do you wanna go inside?"

"Not here...," Meranda replied with a smile.

Under any other circumstances, the first question he'd have asked would have been whether or not the seats in her car recline. If the answer to that question was "no", he would've followed up by asking her how opposed she was to getting at least half-naked in the woods. If the answer to that question was on the scale anywhere near "very", he'd then inquire about her living arrangements and if it would be possible to go there. It was what Sam lovingly referred to as the Dean Winchester Flow Chart of Sex.

But something about that approach seemed wrong with her. He'd only taken a few girls back to their room when Sam was there and his brother was always kind enough to pretend to be a sound sleeper. Later, Sam would later tease him about the sounds and banter he'd endured during his make-believe slumber. This was one time that he knew he'd welcome the hardship because it would mean that whatever was happening between him and Meranda had been taken to the next level.

"Where? You wanna go back to our room? Sammy's pretty much a light-weight when it comes to staying awake. I mean, if he lays down for more than five minutes he's out...like a freakin' light! And he's a sound sleeper too. Even if one of us was a screamer, we'd be safe..." He paused before adding, "I kinda know that because I'm usually the screamer." He hoped against hope that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

Still holding her against him, he felt her chest begin to vibrate and rumble. The laugh that emerged from her was throaty, sexy…and infectious.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckled.

She looked into his eyes and bit her bottom lip. She drew in a deep breath then slowly released it. Smiling, she nodded her head in agreement.

Dean released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Doing his best to contain his exhilaration, he took her hands in his and kissed each of them. He started to turn and head back toward the motel when Meranda pulled away.

"Wait, my car!"

"Oh yeah...it's probably not a good idea to leave it here," Dean said, remembering the railroad ties. Realizing that it also meant they'd be at the room in a fraction of the time it would take them to walk, he added, "Here, let me get your door for you."

Even though they were parked at the motel and walking toward the door in just under a two minutes, to Dean's racing mind it had felt like much longer. He suddenly realized that since Sam had gotten the room alone, he didn't have a key. He tried the knob and sighed with relief when it turned under his grip.

To make sure that Sam was "decent", Dean stuck his head in first. The bedspreads were a hideous combination of blues and greens in an offensively large paisley pattern he'd seen in dozens upon dozens of other rooms much like this one. The curtains were made of the same grotesque material and pattern. Dean wondered momentarily if there'd been a sale or if maybe there was a store somewhere that specialized in this kind of cheap, ludicrous crap.

Sam was already showered and lying propped up in the double bed furthest from the door watching television. The fragrance of his shampoo and deodorant masked the musty smell that all barely used rooms carry.

"Dude…," Dean whispered harshly, using his eyes to signal to Sam that he wasn't alone. Sam wondered if he knew that every time he did that, his head tilted a little in the direction he was trying to point with his eyes, surely giving him away to whomever was behind him. Dean was anything but subtle.

With a smirk, Sam shook his head a little and assumed the position. He knew that it might be too late to feign sleeping. If he wasn't quick enough he might have to make a show of being drowsy for awhile first. Either way, sleep would more than likely follow quickly because honestly, he was tired.

Once Sam was in the prone position, his head facing away from the door, Dean entered with Meranda in tow. She glanced around at the room's furnishings – two double beds and a lone nightstand holding a phone shared a wall, a tiny refrigerator and a long low dresser that held the television were on the wall opposite. Beside the dresser, a small round table with two threadbare chairs, all three pieces scarred with cigarette burns sits across from the door that is obviously to the bathroom. Despite the meager accommodations, the boys' belongings being sprinkled throughout the room have somehow given it a safe, homey feel...a laptop on the table with a pen and notebooks stacked neatly beside it, clothes folded on the dresser, a cup and clock radio on the bedside table...even the towel Sam used draped across the doorknob to the bathroom. Again she found herself smiling.

While Meranda was taking in the ambiance of the room, or lack thereof as it were, Dean had been busy securing the door's locks, turning down the television and putting his jacket over one of the chairs. Passing Sam's bed, he glanced at Sam who gave him a quick wink and closed his eyes. Without breaking stride, Dean continued to his side of the room. His eyes met hers and again they were locked on each other. The pull they had on each other was so primitive in nature that it felt instinctual.

She slid her purse from her shoulder as he reached the foot of the empty double bed. As she let it fall to the floor and began sliding off her shoes, Dean stopped and glanced at the clock. Without second thought, he made his way to the radio and moved one of the switches. One great thing about Sammy setting up, he always knew that finding a good station on the radio was in the top five on the priority list. After the muted click of the switch, the radio announcer's voice flowed into the room giving the call letters of the station.

Dean, his eyes locked onto hers, slid his own shoes off and climbed up onto his knees on the bed. He let his eyes wander down her body, back to her face and solidified their gaze again. He reached out his hand to her and she took it, mirroring his stance on the bed. Again, he could feel her breath stroking his skin.

As Whitesnake's "Slow and Easy" exuded from the radio, he slowly brushed his nose against hers, their lips touching ever so slightly. His hands moved to her face and took in the softness of her skin, while at the same time her hands began exploring his body. He slid his mouth from hers and followed the line of her jaw to her throat and neck. As he let his mouth wander over these areas, he could hear her ragged breath and feel her shutter under his touch. One of her hands had left his back and was eagerly rubbing the back of his head, pressing his mouth firmly to her skin. The hand still on his back had clenched his shirt and was pulling him to her in earnest appetence.

The rest of the night was a blur of sheer bliss. They took their time exploring each other's bodies, torturing each other with slow, calculated moves. Pleasuring each other to completion until sleep overtook them both. They lay tangled in what was left of the sheets. Just before drifting off, Dean's mind as much spent as his body, he realized that his face almost ached with the smile he wore. The last coherent thought that ran through his mind before sliding under slumber's pull was, "_Maybe we should stay a little longer..._"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **_I don't own the Winchester boys - other than in my mind - and mean no copyright infringement. With that said, I tried to get some shopping done last night, but these three came along and kept my mind on everything EXCEPT what I was supposed to be getting done. Now that this chapter's published, I hope to get a couple of things done before finishing the next one...but Meranda's having a difficult time staying away from Dean and vice versa...can't really blame the girl though. *LOL* Enjoy...and please review so I know how I'm doing - whether to keep on going or just kill everyone off with a nuclear explosion and call it good.

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**Chapter 3**

"Dean..."

"Dean...wake up."

"DEAN!"

Sam's voice, at first muffled and far away, suddenly flooded into Dean's ears and he sat up with a start.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" his gruff voice announced.

Clearing his throat and stretching his eyes into focus, he looked around the room then allowed his eyes to settle on the empty space next to him in the bed. He looked at Sam and noticed that he's already dressed.

"Was she here when you got up?"

"No," Sam answered. "But she did leave that."

He pointed to the table between the beds where a note stood propped against the clock radio that proclaimed the time to be 9:23. The paper was folded and facing Dean's side of the room. His name was written on it in perfect schoolgirl script.

Trying to stifle the rising disappointment that she wasn't there and feeling the tension of what the scrap of paper might hold, he snatched the note up. Instead of opening it right away as his actions insisted he wanted to do, he held it, quietly examining his name on the paper. He admired the curves in her handwriting…the way the letters flowed into each other. Finally deciding to face it head-on, he cleared his throat again and unfolded the note. In the same handwriting, the inside read:

_Dean,_

_I didn't want to leave like this, but I have to be back at the diner by noon. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I just couldn't bring myself to wake you. I'd tell you how much I enjoyed last night, but I don't have enough paper, words or time to express it and give it the credit it deserves. Please don't leave without saying goodbye – I don't think I could bear it. I'll be at the diner until 6 tonight._

_Meranda_

Dean once again released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and let out a sigh of relief. The faint knowledge that he'd been afraid that the message might have been the complete opposite of what he'd just read passed through him. Hot on its heels was the need to not look like some pussy whipped moron in front of his brother. He folded the note, laid it on the nightstand with what he hoped was an air of calm, stood and stretched.

Walking to the bathroom he asked Sam, "Whaddaya say we grab a bite? I'm starving!"

"Sure...I'd ask where, but I think I already know the answer," Sam answered with a chuckle. "Hey, did you guys even go inside the bar last night? I barely had enough time to shower and get in bed before you were walking in."

Dean stopped in his tracks.

"Dude, I'm fuckin'...just...ugh!" he said, exasperated in his search for words. He kept shaking his head as he continued into the bathroom. He started to close the door, but stopped.

Poking his head out of the bathroom door, he persisted, "I don't know what it is Sammy...it's like we don't have to say anything to each other. It's like there's this...magnetism…this animalistic…instinctive…attraction between us that I just can't explain."

"Yeah Dean, that's called lust," Sam said sarcastically, laughing under his breath. "You should be pretty well acquainted with it by now...hell, I wouldn't be surprised to find out you had a hand in the creation of it."

Rolling his eyes at his brother, Dean said, "It's not like that, Sam! God! I know how that sounds, but it's different somehow...I'm not...it's not like she's..." he sighed again in exasperation then continued, "I actually want to see her again. I didn't end the night wondering how I was going to get away from her or rating her performance on the scale – which by the way, she is off the damn charts! I may have to recalibrate the entire rating system after her! I mean, this girl did things to places I didn't even know I had!"

Sighing deeply, Sam responded, "But you are looking at a chart system to compare her to so..."

"So...some habits are hard to break. I was actually disappointed when she wasn't here this morning, Sammy. Disappointed – how often does that happen?" Dean admitted, shaking his head in amazement.

"Huh...," was all Sam could manage. An admission like that from Dean was not one to be taken lightly. "Get a shower. We can discuss this over some pancakes...if they're still serving breakfast by the time we get there."

Dean disappeared into the bathroom and Sam sat on the bed after tuning the television in to CNN. He watched the crawl because that's where the real stories are...the ones that they need to watch. Stories that rarely, if ever, merited a newscaster's breath. Truth be told, if they knew the real stories behind even a fraction of those untold, they wouldn't have the words to convey them.

The room filled with the smells of the soap and shampoo from the bathroom. As the crawl made its complete cycle and began again, Sam heard the shower go silent.

Since there really wasn't anything to speak of on the news, he got up and reached behind the television where his cell phone is charging. After disconnecting the charger, he speed dialed Bobby only to get his voicemail.

"Hey, Bobby - it's Sam…I uh, was calling to see if you've found anything lately. It's just that it seems a little…quiet, you know? Call me."

With that, he closed the connection, pocketed his phone and made a mental note to remind Dean to charge his cell phone. He knew he should have done it for him this morning when he got up since that was almost two hours ago, but honestly, he was too afraid to go diving into the pile of clothes on the floor between their beds to find it. It only took one unfortunate discovery to break him of that deplorable habit. He probably came close to scrubbing the skin off his hands that day.

Just as Sam was reliving bits of that lesson being learned, the phone beside the bed rang, startling him. He jumped to answer it, anxious to see who was on the other end. Other than the motel owner, no one even knew what room they were in. Maybe it is the motel owner wanting to know if they were planning to entertain again tonight. After last night's concert of orgasmic cries, she'd either be asking them to leave or if she could move them to a room closer to the road…and consequently further away from her home.

"Hello?"

There's a pause before a soft-spoken, feminine voice asks, "Dean?"

"Uh, no...this is Sam. Who is this?"

Silence again... His mind scrambled trying to place who this person at the other end of the line. He went down the checklist in his mind and as he reached her name, she spoke.

"Oh, um, sorry...this is Meranda. Is Dean...available?"

At that question, Sam's mind raced through a plethora of smart ass answers he could give to it and be spot on.

Instead, he answered, "Yeah, I think so. He's just getting out of the shower." He heard her take in a sharp breath as if the words had shocked her. "You okay?" he asked with concern in his voice.

She sighed deeply, "Yeah, sorry...um, can I...can I speak to him?" Sam couldn't be sure, but he thought he detected a little embarrassment in her voice.

Wondering what she could be embarrassed about, Sam said, "Yeah, sure...hang on a sec."

He put the phone back down on the table and went to the bathroom door. He was about to open it when Dean beat him to it, making them both jump.

"Stalker..."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's name calling.

"Meranda's on the phone," Sam said, nodding his head towards the nightstand.

Dean's eyes lit up, "Yeah?"

Without a second thought, he jumped up onto Sam's bed with both feet and bounced once, propelling himself forward enough to land sitting on the edge where he continued to bounce as he grabbed the receiver. Behind him, Sam's eyes rolled again.

"Hello?"

Dean said the word quickly as if it he were trying to get it out of the way as fast as possible. It sounded more like "ha-lo".

Another deep sigh came from the other end of the line. Dean thought he could actually hear a smile in that exhale and secretly hoped he was right as he realized he was smiling too.

"Hi...," Meranda said softly.

"Hi...," Dean returned.

They sat in silence for a few moments, grinning at nothing in particular. Dean fleetingly thought about how comforting he found just knowing they were connected – even if only by phone. Finally, Meranda's voice stirred the dead air.

"I was wondering...and I don't want this to sound too forward of me...but um, how long will you two be staying?"

"We hadn't really discussed it yet, but if I had to guess, I'd say at least a few days...maybe longer."

"Well, um...I have to start getting ready for work soon so I'll get right to the point, I guess. Can I see you again?"

The smile on Dean's face widened. "Yeah, yes...of course! How 'bout tonight? Maybe we could go get that drink we never quite got around to last night. Hell, we might even be able to talk Sammy into going and getting out of this room for awhile," he said with laughter in his voice.

Hearing this, Sam poked his brother in the shoulder. When Dean turned his attention to his brother, Sam was adamantly shaking his head back and forth while mouthing the word, "no". The next words out of Dean's mouth were all the proof Sam needed that he was being ignored.

"Sure! Sammy'd love to go!" Dean felt his brother's fist against his shoulder as Sam punched him. Completely ignoring him, Dean continued, "Eight okay with you?"

"Eight's perfect! I'll meet you at the motel...if that's ok?" Meranda asked.

"Great! See you then," Dean answered.

They sat in silence again, smiling at nothing. Finally, when Sam appeared in front of him pointing at his watch, Dean broke the silence.

"Well...um...ok...bye."

"Bye," she said laughing.

Dean hung up the phone and fell back onto Sam's bed. Sitting at the table in the corner, Sam threw his head back in desperation.

"C'mon Dean! You're not even dressed! What the hell happened to 'I'm starving'? At this pace, we won't even be leaving here until 8:00 tonight...and charge your damn phone! If you'd put it where I can get to it without running the potential Gross Out Gauntlet, I'd have done it for you!"

At the beginning of Sam's tantrum, Dean had started getting dressed. By the end of it, he was finished, with his keys in hand and standing by the door.

"Let's go, princess. All that whining of yours is just wasting time!"

Sam shot him a look that held both contempt and reverence. At that look, they exchanged their favorite pet names for each other.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Their day had officially begun.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **_I don't own these characters - obviously. _**_WARNING: Smut alert! Adult material ahead. _**_This chapter is long...I was unable to upload yesterday due to site difficulties and that just led to more writing. __Hope you like it. Please, read, enjoy and review! :)  
_

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**Chapter 4**

They arrived back on Main Street in no time. One of the best things about small towns was that there was usually no traffic to really speak of. Since it was mid-morning, many of the businesses had customers parked in front of their buildings. There were people here and there scattered throughout the stretch of sidewalk that lined both sides of the thoroughfare. Some were coming, others going – all of them taking notice in one way or another of the stunning black Impala and the beautiful boys she held as she slid into an open space in front of the diner with Boston's "More Than a Feeling" blaring from her sound system. The boys took in the gawkers and sly watchers. Much like the night before, it was a scene they were used to although Dean always seemed to enjoy it while Sam saw it more as a necessary evil than a source of amusement.

Growing up, when they found themselves in this situation, Sam would wish for nothing more than to melt into the scenery. As uncomfortable as he found it though, you'd have never known it. Dean would sometimes see it in his eyes and try to comfort him in the only way Dean knew how – "Fuck 'em, Sammy...when we leave here they don't exist anymore." Times had changed though and the boys had grown. Of course, Dean still held the same attitude but with a just touch more of an exhibitionistic tendency. For Sam, instead of the situation being painful it was now just mildly irritating.

Walking into the diner, they noticed the scarcity of customers. Chances were it was probably packed before 8:00 a.m. with early risers – the elderly and clock punchers. But it was almost 10:00 and the customers present now were stragglers, more than likely not regulars...people like Sam and Dean – or as close to being like them as they were going to get. The smells of breakfast enveloped them and their stomachs contracted in hungry demand.

Dean tapped Sam's arm and when he had his attention pointed and nodded to the empty booth they'd sat in just over a dozen or so hours ago. Reading his brother's unspoken request, Sam led the way to the table.

Refreshed and now in the light of day, they were able to absorb more of the little details of their surroundings. The speckled floors and tabletops were aged. The walls, dingy with the residue of decades of cigarette smoke, were cluttered with a blend of black and white photos. One could only assume they were scenes of the town and its inhabitants, stills from an era long past.

The cook was now a thin black man with graying hair and a focused countenance. He was quick and skilled with his hands. The waitress on duty was a short, hefty woman who appeared to be in her late 50's. She wore the same uniform Meranda had on the night before, but this could only be described as a grotesque version at best.

As they were both taking note of the stark contrast between the employees from the different shifts, the waitress, attempting her best Mae West, stood up a little straighter. She poked her bosom out a little further and started making her way towards them, swaying her hips in an extreme manner.

Three steps into her trek, Dean remarked under his breath, "Now there ya go Sam…I think she likes you!"

"Bite me Dean!" Sam shot back.

"By the looks of it, I'll have to get in line and hope there's something left _to_ bite when she done…woof!"

Sam let out a sigh, knowing that she was now within earshot and his reply would surely be heard. Instead, the only thing he could do was deliver a look of defiance.

"Well, ain't you two just the cutest little things?" she drawled as she presented them with their neatly wrapped silverware– her southern accent making it sound more like "thangs".

Sam looked at Dean who lifted his eyebrows and slightly tilted his head in her direction, smirking – his silent way of saying, "Here's your opportunity, Sammy!"

Sam narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips – _his_ silent way of saying, "Kiss my ass, Dean!"

The waitress, completely oblivious to this silent correspondence, went right on getting them set up to eat. "You boys aren't from around here, are ya?"

Knowing that question could be Dean's cue to answer with a sarcastic remark that she probably wouldn't understand and wanting to avoid the awkwardness of trying to explain, Sam quickly replied, "No ma'am. We're just passing through on our way to see our uncle in California."

He'd spoken this lie so often that sometimes he had to remind himself that it wasn't the truth. Thanks to his need to be on guard due to Dean's gamesome mood this morning, today was not one of those times.

Dean had adopted a smug look. He nodded his head with feigned interest in the conversation, eyes wide, while doing his best to suppress the smile that was no doubt holding back a burst of laughter.

"Y'all are the exact reason why all our young folk leave here," she said.

Perking up his interest, Sam's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ya cain't find nothin' that looks this good 'round these parts, hun…not without a pair of beer goggles and cataracts!" She lightly touched Sam's shoulder as she said it and whooped a high pitched cackling laugh.

Sam turned his attention to Dean who gave him a wink and a nod…the prick! Couldn't they just have an uneventful meal?

When she finally regained her composure, she pulled her pad and pen from her apron and asked them if they'd like something to drink while they decided what they wanted. Without hesitation, they ordered both their drinks and meals – Dean because his stomach thought his throat had been cut and Sam because he knew it would be one less time to have to endure her company.

After taking their orders down, she looked at them both and, nodding her bulbous chin toward her left breast said, "Like my tag here says, the name's Helen…and if you two boys need anythang – anythang _at all_ – y'all just call me, ya hear?" She finished the sentence with a wink in Sam's direction.

Sam was unable to contain the dismay he felt and his face was saturated with it. Dean was fighting to keep the laughter that was visibly building inside him under control.

She turned and walked away, swaying her hips in the same manner she had on her approach. Sam averted his eyes and wordlessly wished they'd decided on finding a McDonald's instead. Even if it had meant driving thirty miles one way, he was almost certain it would have been worth it not to have to sit through this.

Once she'd disappeared into the kitchen, Dean's face fell into a solemn cast. Looking at Sam, he nodded and repeated, "Anythang…" then closing his eyes and shaking his head he said, "Anythang _at all_…"

He felt a sharp pain in his shin as Sam delivered a nice, swift kick to it. He winced and laughed – the game was afoot!

Giving his brother his most sincerely apologetic gaze, he said, "I'm sorry, Sam…I won't pick on your woman anymore."

Sam grit his teeth and refrained from kicking him again. That was exactly what Dean wanted and if he got it, this torturous exchange could potentially last all day. Dean sat with an expectant look and a slight grin on his face. To Sam, he looked like a giant twelve year old waiting to play.

In an attempt to divert Dean's attention elsewhere, Sam said, "I called Bobby, but he didn't answer. I left him voicemail."

"Why? Did you find something?"

"No…and it's a little quieter than I'm comfortable with."

"Jeesh, Sam! Can't you take a break for once? Live a little? Stop and smell the Roses…or Jennifers or Merandas…" he chuckled and waggled his eyebrows up and down.

"It's easier for me to relax when I know something needs to be hunted down. It's the waiting that makes me tense," Sam said honestly.

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. Despite his best efforts, he has never been able to get Sam to see his side of this argument. That didn't mean he was going to give up though.

"Just promise me one thing, Sammy…promise me you'll at least take this one night to relax and have some fun with me."

Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out. Trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt, he asked, "What exactly did you have planned?"

Dean waited a beat to make sure there wasn't a smart aleck remark to follow. When he was confident that Sam was asking in earnest, he answered.

"Well, I uh…I thought we'd grab a drink or two at that bar. Maybe go back to the motel pool and just hang, you know? Just…relax. Frankly, I don't remember the last time we just did _that_. That sound cool with you?"

Sam rolled the idea round, looking at it from several different angles before answering. It would probably do them some good to really recharge. And Dean was right, when was the last time they got to just hang out without working on a job?

"Sure…why not?" Sam responded, almost instantly wishing he'd declined. That was Sammy though – always feeling guilty about anything that had even the slightest potential to make him feel good.

Dean's face beamed with genuine happiness. For the first time that day, and perhaps the first time in very long time, Sam _really_ looked at Dean. He was simply…glowing. The serenity coming from him was almost palpable and Sam realized he was smiling too in spite of himself.

Dean smiled back at him, winked and nodded. Before he could express himself further, Helen was at their table passing out plates piled with breakfast.

They ate with minimal conversation, their stomachs taking over their motives for the time being. In no time, they were finished.

Before the last bites had been swallowed, their paunchy waitress was at their tableside asking if everything met their satisfaction and if there was "anythang…anythang at all" she could get for them. There was no doubt that her attention was focused on Sam. A fact that aroused no good feelings in him at all, yet amused his brother to absolutely no end!

Although Sam didn't think it possible, Dean perked up even more at her "generosity". Before he had the opportunity to exploit her infatuation, Sam did the only thing he could think of to put an end this agonizing outing. He thanked her while scrambling for the cash he needed to cover the bill and left a tip that he hoped was neither overgenerous or miserly.

Climbing back into the Impala, Dean smirked at Sam over the roof. Sam just half-rolled his eyes and shook his head before getting in. As the Impala's engine roared to life, .38 Special churned out "Hold On Loosely" and Dean began dancing in his seat.

"Go back to the room and clean weapons?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, ok…but only if I can get a nap in too. Dude, I need some recovery time."

Once back at the motel, they spent some time cleaning weapons, checking inventory and watching the crawl on the news channels once or twice. Able to comfortably say it was quiet enough to relax, Dean lay back on his bed and drifted off to sleep. Listening to his brother's even breathing, it didn't take much for Sam to convince himself that a cat nap was a good idea. Even though he doubted he'd need it, he set the alarm on his phone and that's just what he did.

Sam felt a presence in his bed – the warm length of someone laying behind him, gently stroking his back. He realized that he was as naked as the day he was born and by the soft smooth contours, he knows that she is naked too. In perfect dreamlike form, he slowly rolled over to find Meranda propped up on one elbow, smiling at him. He smiled back at her as she traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. She leaned forward and gently brushed her lips against his. He felt the warmth of her breath against his face. He slid his arm under her and pulled her closer, covering her mouth with his own. Her hand caressed his face and as the kiss deepened, it slid slowly down to his chest…to his stomach…to the top of his thigh…lingering just long enough for his anticipation to grow along with his manhood. He heard her moan as his hands began exploring her body and smelled her arousal as she opened herself to him. Her hand left his body to find his and he could feel her pushing his hand between her warm legs. As he felt her slick center against his fingers, she threw her head back and cried out with pleasure…but her cries became a loud…chirping sound? And her body was buzzing…vibrating…

At 7:15, Sam woke with a start – his phone vibrating and chirping wildly…his mind grasping at tiny details of a dream he was having about…Meranda? Before he could pin point the source of the violation, Dean sat up violently and instantaneously snapped to focus. His mind was rapidly running through every weapon and inventory item and their locations when Sam turned it off.

They looked at each other. Dean's expression screamed, "What the fuck, Sam?" right before his vocal chords did the same.

"Dude, I'm no more happy about it than you are! It's 7:15 though…damn!"

That was all the encouragement Dean needed. He was out of bed and taking care of business in the bathroom before Sam finished stretching.

Sam tried one last time to gather what scraps he could of the dream, but it was gone. Instead, he remembered something else.

"Hey, you know I just thought about something – if you didn't tell Meranda about your plans to going swimming, she's not going to have a suit."

From the bathroom, "SAMMY! You promised…so relax!"

Sam closed his eyes and pressed the palms of hands to them. As he slid his hands up into his hair, he made a conscious decision to keep his promise. He was going to step outside his comfort zone and just _be_…at least for the night. Who knows? Maybe some of the confidence Dean seemed to eat, sleep and breathe might rub off on him. Sam took in a deep breath and offered appeasement.

"Okay, OKAY! You're right, I promised. A wise man once told me that old habits die hard…so, I'll try harder."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes:** _Surprise! I don't own these characters...this is a very short chapter, but it holds important information therefore I'm dubbing it a necessary evil. Please, enjoy and review...it really makes a difference. :)

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_**Chapter 5**

Bobby sat at the large oak desk that was buried under assorted stacks of information – a large map of the United States lay the foundation for newspaper articles, page after page printed from the internet, books of varied sizes. Many of the books were open and all of them had Post-It notes sticking out from their pages. He wrote in a spiral bound notebook, then went back to scanning a newspaper article. After finishing the article, he pulled a highlighter from his shirt pocket, turned his attention to the map and, with a steady hand, drew a line that spanned three states. It was a line that crossed two others that had been previously drawn. He dropped the recorded article into a shoebox that lay open on the floor beside his chair.

An hour later, the shoebox was now overflowing with the discarded newspapers. Another open shoebox sat on top of the pile. As he reviewed the internet information, the pages that are deemed unworthy were piling up in the second box. He worked at feverish pitch like a bloodhound on the scent of his target. He had put months into this work and he could feel that old familiar feeling in his guts. The pieces were starting to come together…he was getting closer.

He put the page he had been working on down on the desk and grabbed one of the books. The first sentence on the page he began studying read:

"It is safe to say the history of the succubus is well over 1,500 years old and the folklore is as varied as its origins."

He thumbed his way to two of the Post-It markers, picked up his spiral bound again and scribbled notes on three different pages.

The silence of the empty house was shattered by the clock chimes from the bookcase to his right. He flinched slightly and instinctively looked at his watch. Somehow he had managed to not hear those chimes until now. According to his watch, he had been going at this for the better part of a day and he had done it without eating or drinking anything. He had been "in the zone" as Dean liked to call it.

Now that his concentration had been broken, he knew that it was a lost cause to attempt getting it back. He'd had the few seconds it took to realize that he was hungry…and thirsty…and very, _very_ tired. He sometimes wondered if this part of the job wasn't more stressful than the physical hunt. At least the physical hunt always left him filled with adrenaline. The desk work only left him tired, achy and irritable. He pushed away from the desk and stretched.

In the kitchen, Bobby popped a frozen meal into the microwave. While it was becoming dinner, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and took the time to check his phone for messages. He still had the old fashioned answering machine and the message counter read "02".

"Hey, Bobby - it's Sam…I uh, was calling to see if you've found anything lately. It's just that it seems a little…quiet, you know? Call me."

As he pressed the PLAY button and heard Sam's voice, he was glad that the ringer had been turned down on the phone in his office. If he had answered (and he _would_ _have_ if he'd heard it…he just couldn't stop himself), he knew he would have spent more time talking about his theories than attempting to solidify them.

Call Sam…that became the first thing on Bobby's tentative to-do list. He would really rather have his theories narrowed down a little more before answering this one though...at least try to get the radius of the activity down to less than 100 miles. That would be his goal tomorrow.

He deleted Sam's message. The next message began. It was an automated system announcing "special rates for preferred customers". What the special rates were for, he would never know. Before it went any further, it was gone, deleted, finito. He grumbled to the furniture about how ridiculous it was that companies didn't have to hire folks to pester the hell out of you at dinnertime anymore because some dipshit had come up with a machine that would do it for them. Now not only could they interrupt your meal, but they offered no satisfaction to their victims because there was no one to voice your frustration to besides a recorded voice.

Collecting his plastic plate from the microwave, he sat in front of the television where he ate in silence while flipping through the stations. He started out trying to watch the crawls, but his mind was just too tired of work to follow them. Eventually, he settled on an old John Wayne western. Within minutes of finishing his meal and beer, his snoring drowned out the television.


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors notes: **_I don't own these characters, blah, blah, blah... So in this chapter we're back to the boys and hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for the last one. Please read and review...and hopefully enjoy in between._

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**Chapter 6**

Sam and Dean were showered, shaved and dressed by 7:45. Sam half-expected his brother to be bouncing off the walls and looking out the window every few minutes, but the nap seemed to have settled him. Instead, after taking a quick trip out to check the pool situation, Dean was laying quietly on the bed flipping through channels on the television.

In reality, Dean knew that Sam was going against his own grain by even agreeing to go with them tonight. He really wanted his brother to let go for a little while, and if he were to give in to his own urges and let the anxiousness he felt take over, Sam would surely be scared away. He knew all too well that his brother kept excuses at the ready for just such occasions. For some reason, Sammy had convinced himself a long time ago that being happy or having a good time was a bad thing. Dean was just as nervous about spooking his brother as he was about seeing Meranda again.

And then there was Meranda…what the hell? Dean just did _not_ get nervous about a girl…that was _not_ his style. There was just something different this time – something he couldn't quite put his finger on…and he'd put his fingers on every inch of her last night! That thought brought flashes of different scenes from the night before to mind. He knew instantly that he was going to have to expend some of the energy he'd been building or risk a potential explosion of it.

Taking in a deep breath to steady himself, he turned off the television and sat up facing Sam.

"If they don't have more than jerky and chips at this place, I'm gonna have to pace myself," he said, just as calmly as he'd planned.

Expecting Sam to give him the "you're so irresponsible" look, he was surprised when instead he responded with, "Lucky for us we're just across the street, huh?"

Hoping that his face wasn't betraying him by showing the shock he felt, Dean laughed and said, "Yeah, if worst comes to worst we really _can_ crawl home."

His laugh became more sincere when Sam joined in with him. They were both laughing, discussing in vivid detail exactly what that would look like when the knock on the door startled them. They shared a split second of instinct that told them to go on alert and in the next were back to being jovial again.

After exchanging glances and nods, it was silently agreed that Dean would answer it. Sam knew that he wouldn't want to linger – Dean wasn't one mention food without seeking it out soon afterward – so he made himself busy making sure they could leave by gathering the keys, his wallet, and cell phone. When he was finished gathering everything, he noticed that, true to form, Dean hadn't shut the door and she was still standing outside. He began to think about old habits dying hard again, when he focused on Meranda who was somehow more attractive than he remembered. He can't quite define exactly what it was that was different other than her clothing, but that wasn't it. It was as if her skin had a glow to it…her hair was shinier…her movements more seductive somehow. This would normally be his cue to take a rain check on the festivities. A night spent lusting after his brother's latest mount was not on his list of things to do…but tonight was different. Tonight he had promised Dean – and himself.

He put a smile on his face and advanced toward the door. He made eye contact with Meranda and suddenly his smile became both more genuine in appearance and more comfortable to him. Still staring into her eyes he laughed when he realized that he was _really _smiling…and that although it felt a bit foreign, it also felt good.

He heard Dean laughing and it called his attention away from her. Dean was standing beside the doorway.

"C'mon, Sammy…let's go get our drink on!" The smile Dean wore was relaxed and genuine. He had aimed for cool and made a direct hit.

With that, they were out the door and on their way down the hotel drive. A strange, but comfortable familiarity blanketed them and by the time they reached the street, Meranda was between them, her arms around their waists, her hands supported by her thumbs in their belt loops. The three of them pass the time of the walk with small talk, jokes, laughs and smiles all the way to the door of the bar.

Dean opened the door, bowed deeply and swept his hand in the direction of the doorway, "After you, pretty lady."

As she walked in, Dean smiled at Sam and winked, "Some kinda somethin' ain't she?"

Laughing, Sam nodded in agreement. "She _is_ that," he said as he walked into the bar behind her.

The inside of Mick's was much like the inside of every other dive across the country. The lights were dim, the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke masked the decay of the building and the music was loud. ZZ Top was pounding out "Under Pressure" and something about it made Sam remember a bit he saw on a television show once. They said that it was a proven fact that heavy metal and rock music encouraged termites to eat faster. He remembered the outside of the building and gave this place his diagnosis: another six months...maybe.

There were booths along the front wall on one side of the door and the remnants of a mechanical bull on the other. The actual bar was raised a full step above the rest of the floor and took up a third of the length of one side wall. Dean had never understood why some bars were raised like that. He had always thought of it as some sort of step sobriety test...if you can make it from your stool and off the step, you must be okay to drive, right?

Behind the bar, there was the standard tap, a wall of shelves that went to the ceiling holding liquor bottles, a double sink, a rack of various chips, three large jars – large dill pickles, pickled eggs and, of course, beef jerky. A television mounted on the wall was playing a news channel and the subtitles were on for those who wanted to know what the talking head was saying. There was a small hot plate, a crock pot, a cash register and a chalk board menu that proudly announced Mick's Grandboy's Famous Chili Cheese Dogs are _just_ a dollar.

The rest of the side wall was taken up by the storeroom door and a bench built into the wall. The back wall housed a large state-of-the-art jukebox that looked out of place with its newness. The opposite side wall was home to several racks holding small blocks of blue chalk and pool cues, many of them curved with age and use. Beside the cues was the bathroom door with a sign that read "GUYS & GALS" under that was scribbled "but not at the same time PLEASE". The door was slightly ajar and it was apparent that the restroom was a small, filthy and probably funky smelling area that made the sign all that more amusing.

Past the bathroom, there was a pinball machine and a video game – Duck Hunt, with twin guns connected to it by cords. Between the games and the bull was a single electronic dartboard with six darts protruding from its scarred surface.

Every wall was covered almost from floor to ceiling with a mishmash of _things_ – license plates, cartoons, business cards, notes, cocktail napkins with poetry, phone numbers or drawings on them, dollar bills, photographs, posters, and postcards among many other things. You definitely weren't going to find this pattern at your local wallpaper outlet. The ceiling had gotten in on the act too and dolls, shirts, hats, even a couple of pairs of underwear hung from the ceiling.

There were a few tables with mix-matched chairs around them beside the games and a pool table beside these. Two more pool tables sat side by side in front of the wall housing the jukebox. Each had a light hanging over it in the shape of a large beer bottle turned on its side – each one a different brand.

The boys instinctively scanned the handful of patrons already there. A burly, unkempt man and his scrawny, unshaven friend were playing pool at one of the back tables. From the looks of it, they were planning to be there awhile as their quarters were stacked on the ledge by the bumpers in five neat little stacks. Sam thought briefly how those stacks were probably the neatest, cleanest things about these two.

A young couple sat in the booth closest to the door. The girl's young face looked worn and weary. She fumbled in her purse, produced a cigarette that the young man quickly lit for her with the last match in the book he pulled from his shirt pocket. They barely look old enough to be smoking, much less sitting in a bar.

The last person they noticed was an elderly woman at the corner of the bar. She was what the boys refer to as a lounge lizard – those old, single people who sit all day in one bar or another getting plastered in an attempt to drown their troubles and regrets. She looked in their direction as they walked in, gave them a nod and returned to nursing her drink.

The bartender, a middle aged woman with short, graying brown hair smiled to them as they approached the bar. They sat the same way they walked there – with Meranda between them. The bartender asked what she can get them and in no time at all, three rum and cokes were sitting on the bar before them. Dean stood and slid down to the cash register. He paid for the drinks, handed the bartender $50 and asked her to let him know when it was almost gone. She nodded, winked at him, and slid the bill under a notepad beside the register.

He returned to the stool beside Meranda and looked over her head at Sam who was looking at the hodge-podge of things hanging on the walls and from the ceiling while sipping his drink. There were so many things and such a variety that you could look at the same space a dozen times and still find something new. Dean really looked at his brother for a moment and realized, much to his delight, that Sam was relaxed...and happy.

The three of them exchanged pleasant conversation – Meranda giving them a slight history lesson on the bar and the patrons, Dean and Sam joking about the bull and various items in the room's décor that they found amusing.

"Dude, nothing says 'class' like underwear on the ceiling," Dean laughed.

Their drinks gone, Meranda stood on the lower rung of her barstool and leaned across the bar to speak to the bartender. She had one hand on the woman's arm and the other cupping her mouth so the woman could hear her. The boys couldn't hear what she was saying, but they both enjoyed the view she was giving them. Their eyes went from each other to her round rear and back to each other to trade twin looks of approval. Dean bit his lower lip, moved his hips back and forth and did a swatting motion with his hand as if he were doing her from behind and spanking her which caused them both to break into laughter.

When she sat back down, she motioned for them to come closer. They both leaned in and she put her arms over their shoulders. They were instantly struck by the clean smell of her and consequently exchanged smiles. Turning their attention to her, she yelled over the jukebox, "You guys wanna play Bullshit?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other then back at her.

"Can we marry you?" Dean asked laughing.

"Not without playing the game first," Meranda laughed back.

She nodded to the bartender who handed her a round tray that held a deck of cards, a bottle of rum and three shot glasses. Meranda took the tray and made her way over to one of the little tables with the boys in tow. After placing the tray's contents on the table, she took it back to the bartender and returned to take her spot, again between them.

After agreeing on the rules, Meranda shuffled and dealt the cards. In the first three rounds, Sam failed miserably, five shots ahead of Meranda and two shots ahead of Dean. The next couple of rounds, Dean took the liquid lunge with three shots ahead of Meranda and four ahead of Sam. They were just finishing another round when more customers came in. They had managed to ignore the new people coming in up to this point, but Meranda seemed to suddenly become uncomfortable. The boys followed her gaze to a tall, thin, very attractive dark-haired girl at the bar. They looked at each other with concern then turned back to Meranda.

"What do you say we get the hell outta here? Maybe take this across the street?" Dean suggested smiling into her eyes.

Meranda placed her hand in his on the table. She was watching the girl at the bar intently while trying to remain in their conversation. Sam began to follow her gaze back to the girl when Meranda touched his arm with her free hand. She began speaking rapidly and his attention was drawn back to her.

"Sam, what do you think? Does that sound like a plan? You wanna go back to the room and we can finish our game there?"

Instead of looking confused by the rambling and anxiety, he looked into her eyes and smiled.

Still smiling, Sam replied with a shrug and a nod, "Sure, why not?"

A little more relaxed, Meranda looked at them and said, "Let's settle up and get outta here then."

As they rise, she picked up the bottle, cards, and her shot glass. Sam took his and Dean his own. She slid around the table and back in between them. Only Meranda seemed to notice that the dark-haired girl had moved to the back of the bar and was now talking to Fat and Filthy. Looping her arms through theirs, Meranda and the brothers walked to the bar, three wide. Dean spent was left on his tab on hot dogs, chips and jerky. Meranda spoke again to the bartender, who nodded, and the three walked out of the bar with their food and game supplies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Notes:** _**WARNING! SMUT ALERT! **This chapter is more graphic than the previous lemon scenes...and it's not even AS graphic as it could have been. Please read and review. Oh yeah, I don't own these characters, I've only borrowed them to have my way with them. *LOL*

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_**Chapter 7**

The walk back to the room, which was more like a very long stagger, was filled with remarks and jokes about the bar, its clientele and who was losing before they decided to move to the room. Dean and Meranda stumbled into the room laughing and deposited their spoils on the table while Sam kept walking toward the pool. Dean sauntered over to the radio, turned it on and the sounds of .38 Special singing "Caught Up in You" rushed into the room.

"Where'd Sam go?" Meranda inquired.

"Hell if I know. Sam-my!" Dean yelled to him.

As if on cue, Sam lumbered into the doorway carrying one of the chairs from beside the pool. He was leaning just a little and the smile on his face was one of true happiness...and total drunkenness.

"I thought we'd need this if we're gonna finish the game...you know? The game _you_ were losing…beeee-atch?" He pointed at Dean and laughed at himself. Dean and Meranda joined in.

Dean walked to his brother, put his arm around him and said with a drunken smirk, "But _I _wasn't the one losing…ass clown!"

By the time the banter was over, the three chairs were set into place and each of them had settled into their places – Dean, Meranda and Sam.

They were silent for just a moment as Meranda began setting up to finish the game before Dean broke it by asking, "Does anyone else feel like going for a swim?"

His glassy eyes looked hopeful from one to the other as Sam and Meranda exchanged lingering glances that ended with mirrored smiles.

They looked back at him and almost simultaneously said, "Why not?"

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!" Dean shouted as he stood and began to undress.

He caught a glimpse of Sam's face and for a moment he thought that this was going to be the line where Sam was going to refuse to cross. Even intoxicated Dean could almost see his brother's mind churning to select the best excuse for just such a situation…and just as fast, he watched Sam slam the mental door shut. Obviously, alcohol was great for lubricating the hinges. Sam stood up and began slowly undressing too.

For some reason, the thought of Meranda backing out never entered his fogged mind – maybe because she was already down to her bra and panties and had started helping them. When he and Sam were down to their boxers, they turned toward the door. Meranda stopped them by gently grasping their wrists – Dean's left and Sam's right.

"Wait…um, don't we need towels," she asked.

"Yeah…lemme…grab…those," Dean began to say, but when he and Sam turned around to find out why she was stopping them, they found themselves looking into her eyes. They were lost in them. The three of them stood silent in the middle of the room, their wrists in her hands and their eyes focused on hers which bounced from Dean's gaze to Sam's repeatedly. The sound of Nickelback singing "Savin' Me" on the radio suddenly seemed very far away.

Her hands released their grip and slid slowly up their arms to their shoulders. Her right hand slid up to Dean's face and caressed it while her left one felt the smoothness of Sam's strong chest. Sam briefly closed his eyes and gasped at the feel of her against him. Their eyes followed hers as she looked slowly from one to the other. Sam felt the warmth and softness of her skin as she moved her hand to Sam's face. It slid to his the curve of his throat and followed it to the back of his head. Her fingers wove their way through the hair at the nape of his neck. She slowly pulled him toward her and, as his lips touched hers, she turned and put her back against the full length of Dean's body. As the kiss with Sam intensified, she reached behind her and ran her hands into Dean's hair. She gently pulled him toward her, and within seconds, his mouth fervently sought out her neck. The smells of her hair and body provoked his craving for her even more.

Moments later, she pulled away and pivoted to face them. She held out her hands and they each took one. Without a word, she pulled them to the Sam's bed and lay down. Silently, the boys began to remove her under garments, followed by their own. Sam knelt beside the bed and began kissing and suckling her breasts. Dean lay beside her and began kissing her mouth hungrily, exploring her body with his hands. She squirmed and writhed under their touch. Sam began to kiss and lick his way down her body and her back arches, forcing her body to meet his mouth. He slid between her legs and continued his journey until his tongue touched her warm, wet center. She cried out in pleasure against Dean's mouth as it eagerly kissed her. Sam continued pleasuring her as she panted, still feeling the aftershocks as he slid up and into her. She gasped and moaned as Sam's movements become harder…and faster. Dean's mouth left hers to travel her neck and breasts.

They continued this sexual trilogy well into the night – pleasing her and being pleasured by her – before sleep took them in the early morning hours. They were still in Sam's bed – Sam, Meranda and Dean. The boys fell asleep first and the sounds of their rhythmic breathing could be heard despite the radio's loud delivery of Santana singing "Black Magic Woman". Meranda, laying with her head on Dean's shoulder and Sam's arm thrown over her, soothingly stroked them despite the growing look of worry on her face. She knew that she was not going to be able to stay silent much longer if they were to remain safe. But how much should she tell them? How much _could_ she tell them without being viewed as the enemy too?


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:** _I do not own these characters, I have only hijacked them for my own enjoyment. Back to the story...  


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**Chapter 8**

After much debate, Meranda decided to stay. She weighed the pros and cons of her actions before committing to them. It was the only way she could be sure that she had even a remote chance of keeping them safe. Part of her wished there had been another way, but when she saw Soraya at the bar, she knew what she had to do. How much of what took place could be undone? Still fighting this internal battle, she finally gave in to sleep.

Sam slowly opened his eyes enough to test the effects of morning sun on them. They were immediately slammed shut, striving to shut out the pain as much as the light. His head ached with the lingering effects of the night before and he took a moment to get his bearings, which took a little longer without the use of his eyes. Suddenly, he realized there was a body against him. Taking in the contours and softness, he knew that thankfully it was a woman's body, but the mystery still wasn't solved. He allowed his eyes to chance the pain of the sunlight and caught a glimpse of her back before slamming them shut again. His arm was around her side and his leg draped across hers. He strained to recall the image he'd just seen. Her hair, it was chestnut brown. His mind tried to sort all the thoughts that began flying into his mind, but the best he could do was pick out one question – maybe the most important question of the ones he had to choose from. Was this Meranda?

He remembered playing Bullshit at the bar and vaguely something about moving the party to the room when they were down the better part of a fifth of rum. He got a chair from poolside so there'd be enough to finish the game. Did they finish the game? Who won? When he realized his situation again, he had to chuckle at _that_ question…which as it turned out, is rather painful when you're hungover.

As the pain subsided, Sam became conscious of the fact that he was going to have to answer the call of nature…and soon. He could only imagine how horrible his head was going to feel when he moved, so he planned to wait as long as he could. Sam had just resigned himself to this fact when he felt the bed move slightly, and a heavy hand landed on top of his head. Mentally he tried to work out how her hand could be where it was while laying in the position she was in. She hadn't moved under his arm, but he was certain that the movement of the bed had been felt.

He squinted and tilted his head, trying to get a glimpse of the arm attached to the hand on his head. He saw it, but his still clouded thought process took a few moments to put the picture together in a manner he could comprehend. When it finally computed, his eyes sprang open despite the pain.

Instantly, he realized something that had somehow escaped him during this entire process – he was naked. This awareness was the catalyst he needed. Resisting the overwhelming urge to mutter, "Shit, shit, shit!" under his breath, he moved as carefully as he could and got out of bed. Without stopping to look at the scene before him, he rushed to the bathroom. After gently closing the door, he stood with his back against it, eyes closed again and panting. Taking in a deep breath, which sounded like a jet engine to his ears, he steadied himself. He took care of his needs, slowly made his way to the shower, and turned it on. He leaned against the cool tile wall while mustering up his strength to get into the shower. He was doing his best not to think about anything other than the task at hand – at least that was what he told himself. Meanwhile, of course, part of his mind was attempting to put together the events from the night before as well as decide which list was shorter – places he hurt or places that he didn't. He'd bet money that turned out to be an even tie.

His shower seemed to last forever and when he finally turned off the water, his head was at least slightly more lucid, his soreness eased and his fingertips pruned. He was drying off when he was suddenly startled by the bathroom door opening. As Dean stumbled naked to the toilet, Sam was on the verge of hurting himself in an attempt to cover his body with the small towel and close the bathroom door at the same time.

"Damn it, Dean! Can't you knock?" he whispered loudly.

"Fuck, Sammy! Quit screaming!" Dean moaned back, his voice gruff with sleep.

Dean lifted the seat, folded his arms and leaned against the wall behind the toilet. Not bothering to even aim, he rested his head against his arms and relieved himself. The splashing sound was enough to make them both moan with displeasure.

Sam continued drying off while Dean moved to the sink. Looking in the mirror he ran his tongue through his mouth with a look of disgust.

"Damn! Did a cat shit in my mouth last night? Ugh!" he said before splashing cool water on his face and rinsing his mouth.

Each sound, no matter how big or small, rang through their heads like a marching band. Dean took a towel off the rack beside the sink, dried his face and replaced it.

Looking in the mirror again, he said with a low groan, "What we need is a little hair of the dog, pal."

"Uh, uh...I don't think I'm gonna be drinking _anything_ for awhile...thanks though."

"Suit yourself," Dean said as he started to open the door.

"Wait!" Sam whispered loudly as he put his hand against the door to keep Dean from opening it.

Dean looked at him and his face clearly said that he'd love to yell, "What now?" but the pounding in his head wouldn't allow him to go any further than the stare.

Sam hesitated, trying to think of the right words, but when Dean began to look impatient, he just blurted out the question.

"What the hell happened last night?"

Dean looked at him blankly before asking, "Do you mind discussing this when your junk's not out?"

Sam paused, "What about _your_ junk?"

Dean looked down at himself then back at Sam.

"Sammy, this conversation's getting weirder by the second. Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna go get dressed."

Just before closing the door, Dean paused and said, "And for the record, _my_ junk doesn't bother me." With that, Dean left him standing in the bathroom alone.

As he finished his bathroom routine, he took advantage of his clearing mind to sort out at least how to proceed. If what he _thought_ happened last night actually _did_ happen, it would seem that Dean either didn't remember or didn't care. Sam was going to go with the "doesn't remember" option since he himself only had the luxury of piecing clues together that could only add up to that conclusion. That being the case he really could act like he didn't remember either because…well, he didn't. Would that be the best course of action? He reminded himself that they _would_ eventually be leaving here and if it was something that needed to be dealt with, they would do it when they were alone again...no sense in embarrassing Meranda too, right? God only knew how many ways that conversation could go horribly wrong – especially if by some miracle he was wrong about last night's events.

With a plan in place, he felt much more relaxed about the situation and decided to come out of hiding and get dressed too. He opened the door just enough that he could look out into the room. Meranda was still asleep and Sam was glad to see that Dean had taken the time and care to cover her with the sheets. Dean was sitting at the little table in his underwear, drinking from a shot glass. Just the sight of it made Sam's stomach heave in protest and his head swim. He closed his eyes long enough to regain his composure. With the tiny motel towel wrapped around him, he walked out and straight to the dresser where he dropped the towel and dressed. Dean was still sitting in the chair, legs out in front of him, head back, eyes closed with the palms of his hands against them. Glancing at the clock, Sam was shocked to see that it was almost noon.

Silently, he cleared off the table and set up his laptop. In no time he had searched out a million and a half cures for a hangover. After scanning through a few, he stood, steadied himself and took a deep breath.

"I'll be right back," he said as he headed toward the door.

Dean groaned in acknowledgment.

Twenty minutes later, he was walking back through the door with a medium sized paper bag. Dean and Meranda had both showered and were now dressed and laying on Dean's bed together. They opened their eyes and looked at him when he walked in, but closed them again before he had time to shut the door.

Putting the bag on his bed, he tried his best to make the least amount of noise possible, but everything he did seemed to be amplified tenfold. From the bag he produced three plastic cups, three small paper packets and a large bottle of orange Gatorade that he placed on the bedside table. He opened the Gatorade and poured each cup three quarters of the way full. After replacing the cap, he opened the packets one by one, dropping the large discs inside into the cups where they instantly began to fizz. He picked two of the cups up, walked to Dean's bed and nudged him.

Dean opened one angry eye and Sam silently held the cups where Dean could see them. Dean took in a deep breath and nudged Meranda who gave him the same angry eye he'd given Sam just seconds ago. Sam handed her and Dean a cup each and they winced as they downed the contents in one big gulp. Sam went back to his own cup and downed his as well. He sat on the bed and the temptation to lie down overcame him. He lay across his bed and waited for the medicine to work its magic.

Without realizing that he'd fallen asleep, Sam woke up. His phone was ringing. While trying to locate his cell, he realized that he felt better...at least a little. As he finally found it just under the bed, it stopped ringing. He yawned and stretched before looking at the caller ID to see that the missed call was from Bobby. As Sam lay debating on whether to call him right back or wait to listen to his voicemail, Dean and Meranda began waking up as well.

Pouring himself a cup of Gatorade, Dean yawned. While drinking it, he picked up one of the empty packets and studied it. Meranda quietly disappeared into the bathroom.

"Thanks for the morning-after magic," Dean said holding the packet up between his index and middle fingers. "I almost feel human again."

"Yeah, there's two more bottles of Gatorade in the bag. Everything I saw said rehydration and rest were the best weapons."

"Sammy, you're the only person I know that would Google hangover fixes. The geeked up version of Florence Nightingale," Dean joked, an obvious sign that he was feeling much better.

Reappearing from the bathroom, Meranda poured herself a cup of Gatorade as well. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she put the cup to her lips and sipped it. Dean's eyes lit on her the moment she walked back into the room, and never left her. He appeared to take mental note of every movement she made. After drinking most of it, she placed the cup back on the bedside table. She looked at Dean, put her hand on his leg and smiled.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"Starved!" Dean answered. "What about you Sammy? You hungry?"

Sam realized that Dean hadn't even stopped looking at her to ask him. He looked at the clock – it was almost 5:00. Realizing that he hadn't had food in his stomach since breakfast yesterday, his belly grumbled.

"Yeah, I could eat," he answered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **_Newsflash! I still don't own these characters! Ok, so it's not so newsworthy...read, enjoy and, please, review. :)

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**Chapter 9**

Sometimes the most simple of ideas, like dinner, could become complicated. Sam went back to the information he'd gathered on hangover cures that insisted that mineral rich foods, like pickles and canned fish, should be consumed. The suggestion got him double blank stares and Meranda might have even turned a little green before Dean shot the idea down completely.

After much debate, it was finally decided that Meranda and Dean would ride to the next town over – just five miles north – and pick up some burgers. They discussed all going together and just eating there, but once it was mentioned that there would more than likely be a barrage of offending aromas, the vote for take out was unanimous.

As the Impala roared to life, Sam began returning Bobby's call without bothering to listen to the voicemail. It rang twice before Bobby's voice came over the line.

"Hey Sam! I was beginning to think we were gonna play phone tag."

"One round of it anyway...looks like I win," Sam said, chuckling. "Anything new?"

"Well, I think so...it wasn't out there like we normally see it, so it took a bit more tracking than usual. I've been working on it for about two months now. I've found movement of what I believe to be a succubus. I've tracked her through Arizona into Texas and I think she's made her way into Oklahoma, but she might be just outside of it in one of the bordering states."

"Oklahoma? Where exactly?"

"Well, that's the thing. I've only been able to narrow it down to about a fifty mile radius. But the center of it is in a place called Cimmaron."

Sam immediately began pulling up maps of Oklahoma and plugging in this name. In seconds he was looking at three different views of a town just minutes east from where they were sitting.

"We're right near there...but we haven't seen or heard anything. What have you found?"

"She's a tricky bitch, I'll give her that. She's been killing men every hundred miles or so and she's spacing them out with enough time between them that you'd only see a pattern if you happened to be looking for one. She's been bouncing around all over the place too, but if you follow her path, she's been heading east for awhile now. It's almost like she's taking a break or something, because she's not really moved much other than that fifty mile radius for quite some time."

"Huh...a succubus...and refresh me again on what we'd be looking for?"

"A woman, almost always very attractive, hypnotizes their victims, eats men's souls like bon bons...ringing any bells?"

Sam was silent for a moment and with Bobby on the other end of the line, a moment is just enough to draw attention.

"What is it kid? You seen something that might fit the description?"

Sam hesitated again weighing what he should say, but knowing that he was going to have to come clean to Bobby or face the inquisition. He takes in a deep breath before starting.

"I'm not really sure. Dean's kinda been seeing this girl since we got here."

"Hell, that's nothin' new. When is he not tryin' his best to mark the territory?"

Sam hesitated again. "It's just different this time. The first night he was with her, he was acting like a love struck school girl…and when he's around her, it's like he can't take his eyes off her." Sam stopped there, debating whether or not to embarrass himself by telling him more.

"Are you saying that you think Dean is in love? That's enough all by itself to make this girl suspect," Bobby said jokingly.

Sam took another deep breath. "That's not all…I think, um…well, I may have reason to believe that uh…"

"Spit it out, boy!"

"I think she may have uh…gotten us drunk…and um…well, I think we might have both been with her last night…" Sam cringed when he said it, waiting to hear what jokes were going to be made at his expense.

It was Bobby's turn to be silent. He was busy wondering if this was enough to make him as worried for the boys as he suddenly felt.

"Bobby?" Sam almost wondered if Bobby had the phone muted so that he couldn't hear him laughing. He listened hard and could hear Bobby breathing so he guessed not, but he still felt the heat rising in his face.

"I'm trying to figure out how we can know for sure. I'd ask if you two are tired, but if you tied one and played romper room with this girl, you'd be tired anyway. I don't reckon you could tell me if you think you're more tired than you would be despite the circumstances?"

Sam gave it serious thought. "Honestly, I'm feeling better now that the hangover's almost gone, and Dean was fairly spry when he left with Meranda right before I called you."

"Meranda? That her name?"

"Yeah…why?"

"Nothing, but I will do myself a little checking on it…you know, just in case." Bobby paused a moment before continuing. "Describe her to me."

"Yeah, 'cause that's not weird or anything."

"Just tell me what she looks like!"

Sam sighed deeply. He had to wonder sometimes if Bobby just liked messing with him the way Dean did.

"Okay…she's about my height, maybe a little shorter. She's got really long brown hair...it's straight...kinda shiny. She's got these pretty greenish-blue eyes that kinda stand out. They're kinda…bright. I guess you'd say."

Bobby cut him off before he could go any further. "I'm gonna ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly, okay?"

"Sure Bobby, what?"

"Do you have feelings for her?"

Sam laughed, "What?"

"Just answer the question," Bobby said calmly. "Think about it…hard…and tell me the truth."

Hearing a hint of urgency in Bobby's voice, Sam knew that he needed to do what he was being asked. So that's what he did. He rolled the idea around in his mind, asking questions that were all followed up with their own question: And if Dean weren't in the picture? The answers were frightening.

"What if I'm confusing 'being attracted to' with 'having feelings for'?" Sam asked.

"Oh Christ on a cracker! What the fuck, son?"

"What do you mean? I just told you I think I'm attracted to her…I mean, I find her attractive…I just want to know if there's a way that I might be confusing that with having feelings for her." Sam insisted.

"The fact that you aren't sure of that makes me uncomfortable," Bobby admitted.

"Bobby, really…if she were a succubus, don't you think she'd have us both falling all over ourselves and not just Dean? I mean, especially after last night?" The last sentence was whispered, as if he thought the walls were listening in. "I don't wanna confuse a small town nymphomaniac with a soul sucking demon. If Dean really has feelings for this girl and she's human, how well do you think cutting her with silver to see how she reacts is gonna go over?"

Bobby paused before answering with a heavy sigh, "I'm not saying I have all the answers here…I'm just saying that we need to remember that we don't have them all and not let our guard down anymore than we need to."

"Well…is there something we need to be doing in the meantime? I mean, other than waiting for her to eat our souls?" Sam said half-joking.

"Just watch her. Everything I find says basically the same thing – they hypnotize men with their beauty and, depending on how hungry they are, will either feed on their souls slowly or eat the entire thing like a fat kid left to guard the cupcakes. The slow approach leaves the victims tired all the time and if more than one person is on their menu, they tend to get jealous…not only of each other, but everyone."

Sam thought these things over and remembered the casual way Dean was about everything. He was fairly certain that Meranda probably wasn't the succubus, because Dean wasn't that good at pretending he wasn't pissed. Then another thought occurred to him.

"Wait, by definition isn't a succubus a demon? Wouldn't the regular demon tests work? Our windows and door are salted and she had no problem with it."

"I'm afraid that that's where things get a little fuzzy on the fact-o-meter. See, they're referred to as both demons and as evil spirits. But there's also theories that point to possible hybrids – half succubus and half human. Some lore says that the powers and weaknesses of the hybrids are unknown, some say that each one is different…but a few say they have all the abilities of the succubus with a human's immunity to everything that would harm a demon."

"Shit! How do we deal with that?"

"We've gotta find it first. Start listening out for missing persons, look for couples that just do not go together. If you see a couple and think, 'He must be rich to be hittin' that', watch that bitch, 'cause chances are she's the one. The fact that the entire area is so rural is probably the only thing on our side."

"Can you send me the radius you've narrowed it to? I wanna make sure that we know how far to keep our eyes open."

After talking Bobby through the steps to scan the map and email it, Sam told him they would keep him informed, and asked that he do the same. Bobby, of course, said that he would.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes:**_ I do not own these characters, but I'm having a great time borrowing them. Enjoy and review...  
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_**Chapter 10**

Sam spent the remainder of his time alone going over his conversation with Bobby again and again in his mind. He listed off all the things that could point to the possibility of Meranda being one of these things and he hated to say it, but it might be true. He knew that he was attracted to her, but also feared that he had feelings for her. But for the life of him, couldn't figure out how or why when they'd spent minimal time together and no time alone. They'd exchanged no more than what he would term as "party conversation" – something that might contribute to the lust factor, but not the emotions. He felt fondly protective of her – not something you'd associate with a random hook-up. And that's another thing that didn't make sense to him when he really let himself think about it…hook-ups are Dean's thing, not his. Had he ever had a one night stand before? He'd blushingly tell you that he had. But if asked how many? He probably wouldn't answer…but up until now he could count them all on one hand.

He was just beginning to concentrate on how to broach the subject with Dean when his brother walked in with two large fast food bags. Meranda was right behind him carrying two cup carriers, each with three large cups in them. When she saw Sam looking at the cups she smiled and explained.

"Sodas," she said lifting one. "Milkshakes," she said as she lifted the other.

The only thing about the explanation that surprised Sam was that it wasn't followed up with, "and the rest are in the car."

It didn't take long for the smells from the bags to permeate the room or for Sam's belly to grumble with desire from them. Dean rattled off the contents of the bags as he sat them down, opened one and took out a burger and fries for himself before sitting down at the table. Obviously he was hungry and, well, nothing much comes between Dean and his food.

"I was going to ask what took so long, but by the looks of things, they had to kill three cows just to fill our order…damn!" Sam said as he and Meranda both settled in with their portions at the table.

"Nah…they were actually pretty speedy," Dean said between bites. "We might have stopped for a uh…pit stop…on the way," he finished with a wink and smirk at Meranda who covered her mouth with a napkin, laughed and blushed.

Sam was taking all this in while trying to remain objective. He had just begun to think of "harmless" ways he could test her with the standard demon tests when she touched him gently on the arm and started telling him about the struggle she had keeping Dean out of the bags on the ride back. Her touch startled him out of thought and he found himself paying attention to her every word as if it were the most interesting thing he'd ever heard.

Dean chimed in to defend himself, laughing. He shook his head at his brother and rolled his eyes as if to say, "She's so full of shit." Sam's mind fought to recapture his train of thought, but all he could manage was grasping at a vague resemblance of what he was looking for just as it escaped him completely. His next thought was, _if it's important, it'll come to me again later._ It was something his father always seemed to say when he couldn't remember something.

They finished their meal and after cleaning up, Dean suggested going swimming. Sam didn't even bother to remind him about the thirty minute rule.

"I'm still kind of tired so I think I'm gonna skip it for tonight," Meranda said settling herself on Dean's bed.

The boys exchanged looks that silently said, "That sounds better anyway." And with that, they decided to see what was on television. Dean and Meranda took the pillows on Dean's bed and moved them to the opposite end. They lay propped up on their elbows while Dean flipped through the channels. Sam was sitting on the edge of his own bed watching the changing screen. He glances at the clock – almost 8:00 P.M. He has a nagging feeling that he's forgetting something…something he's supposed to do. He begins running down the mental checklist that begins with salting the doors and windows – as he mentally checks off each item, his eyes go to those places. The second time his eyes land on the door he realizes that it's not locked. Shaking his head as he walks toward it, he can't believe he forgot to make sure the door was locked when they came in with dinner earlier. Meranda was the last one in, with her hands full, and how could he expect her to know anyway?

He locked the door and as he was walking back, Meranda reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"C'mon Sam! Lay with us!" she said with a smile, sliding closer to Dean and consequently the middle of the bed.

There was a moment of hesitation when Sam had that feeling of forgetting something pass over him again. He looked down at her and realized there were only two pillows…is that it? It had to be.

"Sure, lemme grab my pillow!"

Sam grabbed his pillow and they made room for him. As they lay there shoulder to shoulder – Sam, Meranda and Dean – there is a feeling of comfort in their closeness that makes them relax. Dean passed over some great horror flicks, which was rather unlike him, but Sam assumed that it was because their normal way of watching them was to critique how the monster is dealt with as opposed to reality and what really works. He paused on "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmerman". He would have watched it, but Meranda's face was contorting in disgust over the host's latest squirming meal – Sam was silently grateful. He finally settled on a "Family Guy" marathon and put the remote down.

Ten minutes into the show, Meranda sat up between them resting a hand on each of their backs. While they continued watching television, she slid her hands under their shirts and absently began stroking them. A sense of calm cloaks them and they both feel something they haven't in a long time – safe...safe without the need for vigilance to preserve it. Every muscle in their bodies seems to soften with release of the tension they've been carrying for so many years.

They lay their heads on their pillows and before they realize it, they're both sound asleep. Meranda continues stroking them, watching television. When she's sure they've given up and gone to sleep, she goes out to her car and retrieves her bag. She makes sure that she stays alert while outside of the room – taking in every sound and carefully analyzing them for potential threats.

As she's returning to the room, she notices the line of salt at the threshold. It's been broken. Quietly, she looks through their things until she finds the keg and solidifies it again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes: **_I do not own these characters. This is another short chapter. It seems that Bobby's taken over all the short ones so far. Please enjoy and review.  
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_**Chapter 11**

Bobby is lying in bed staring at the ceiling. He has recounted his conversations with the boys so many times that he now has to remind himself which one said what. When he'd disconnected with Sam earlier, he felt the need to call Dean. He tried to ignore it, telling himself that the boys were grown, well-seasoned hunters and with each other as backup, he didn't have to worry so much. But when the urgency hit him again, he didn't think of the well-seasoned hunters, but of his friend's boys…boys he thinks of as his own.

He had called Dean and, knowing that he'd have to handle the situation with care, he did his best to make it seem like a social call. He wasn't lying when he told Sam that he didn't have all the answers. This was shaky ground, but not knowing made it worse. Not knowing gave it power…much more than it could potentially hold if they just knew what they were dealing with.

Dean had answered on the fourth ring. Bobby was preparing himself to leave voicemail when he realized that it was Dean in the flesh talking to him and not the recording of his voice.

He asked him the usual questions – where were they, had they heard anything, how were they doing – and Dean gave the usual answers…but something was different. Although he didn't say anything out of the ordinary, there was something different about the _way_ he said it. He sounded…distant somehow.

Bobby had heard noise in the background and even though he knew it was the radio, it gave him the opportunity to ask Dean if he were alone. When he asked who was in the background, Dean did something he rarely, if ever, did – he lied to Bobby. Dean didn't know that Sam had spilled the beans about where he was or who he was with and the lie was spoken in that same distracted tone.

The rest of the evening for Bobby was spent wondering how he could possibly have _less_ information after pursuing more and arguing with himself over what was real and what wasn't. Did Dean lie to him? Yes. But what if he was in a situation that he felt he should? If Dean were anything like himself, it was very possible that this girl was going down on him while he was on the phone. If he has feelings for her like Sam suspects, he might feel awkward about taking the dialogue further. He'd known him to hold longer conversations during the act, but with those girls, he usually either didn't know their names or didn't remember them. Bobby in no way wanted to be upset with the boy if he was just getting his rocks off, but if she was what he feared her to be, the fact that she was even with him would be a bad thing, to put it mildly. And so the debate continued.

Now here he is, laying in bed wrestling with his thoughts. He had managed to ignore the first urge to call, but now he has an urge to go. He knows where they are – not only did Dean tell him, but he'd also looked it up…and mapped a route…and calculated his time to make the drive. There's a nagging voice in the back of his mind who keeps asking the same question: What if you're wrong? It's that voice alone that has kept him from being on the road long before now.

The other voice – the one that kept asking him how he'd even know how to test a succubus or any variation of one for that matter – shut up finally after recycling a decision that has served him well in the past: Go with what you know. According to Sam, she didn't blink at the salt, but what if the line was broken? What if she'd had Dean break it for her while he was under her spell?

The pictures from the different sites he'd gone to and books he'd read on the subject of succubi were flashing through his mind. If it were anything like these things he'd read about these boys wouldn't stand a chance once they were under its power. And if the bitch got tired of playing with them, she'd have herself a midnight snack or two and be on her merry way.

At that thought, Bobby sat straight up in bed. The decision had been made. He was going! If he was wrong, they could laugh about it over a couple of cold brews...unless of course he accidentally killed her. But if he was right, he hoped to God he could make it in time. And if he can't, God help her.

As he's loading the Chevelle, he wishes he could call and let them know that he's coming, but he knows that would be a mistake. Instead, he just whispers the words to them in the dark of the night.

His MapQuest directions say that they are just less than 600 miles away and that it should take him about ten and a half hours to make the drive. Something tells him that short of getting arrested for the laws he's about to break, he'll be there in record time. The clock on the dash reads 11:11 P.M. Even if the directions are right and it takes him the time it says it should, he'll still be there by mid-morning.

As luck would have it, he'll make it there in under nine hours and have time to catch a little shut eye before getting started.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes: **_I do not own these characters. I really hope that I'm not rushing this. I may go back and tweak the entire thing after it's complete. I don't want to give too many details, but I don't want to leave too many out either. Please read and review...let me know what you think._

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_**Chapter 12**

After making sure the salt is in place at all the windows and checking the door again, Meranda takes her bag into the bathroom. As she leaves the bedroom, she turns out all the lights in the room, leaving just the glow of the television which she also mutes. She leaves the bathroom door open so that she can still listen for movement. She showers again, this time with the luxury of using her own favorites to bathe, wash her hair and brush her teeth. She dresses in clean clothes from the bag – jeans and her favorite Far Side t-shirt. On it is a kid pushing on a door marked "PULL"...beside him is a sign that reads "Midvale School for the Gifted". After drying all of her personal effects and returning them to her bag, she removes one last item before zipping the bag closed and placing it beside the dresser.

Standing in the bedroom, she holds the dagger – staring at it, turning it over in her hands for a long time wondering exactly how to proceed. She contemplates hiding it until it's needed, but fear of not being able to reach it in time keeps that plan from coming to fruition. She turns it in her hand so that the length of the blade is against her forearm, concealing it, as she walks to the large window by the door.

She stands still, being as quiet as she can manage. The only sounds in the room are the soft, rhythmic sounds of Sam and Dean sleeping. She takes a deep breath, steadies herself before closing her eyes and reaching out with her mind…only seconds pass before her eyes open wide. Apprehension distorts her face as she struggles to regain her composure. She pulls a small section of the curtain back, just enough to look out. She doesn't see anything, but she knows it's there…she can feel it.

She lets the curtain fall back into place and leans against the wall, her head back and eyes closed. She takes in another deep breath and releases it into the silence. It won't come tonight. It's feeding just yards away. The enjoyment she knows it's taking from that horrible act makes her stomach churn. Reluctantly, she puts the dagger in the bedside drawer beneath the outdated phone book it holds.

Pulling the comforter from Sam's bed, she climbs back in between the brothers and covers everyone. She rolls onto her side facing Dean. With a touch of her hand on his arm, he rolls putting his back toward her. She reaches behind her and touches Sam who rolls over and moves closer to spoon against her back, his arm over her. She works her leg between Sam's so that his leg is over hers. Her arm over Dean's side, hand against his chest, she gently pulls him toward her as she spoons up against his back. Her other leg is over one of Dean's.

For the next several hours, she does her best to sleep.

Sam is the first to wake. He can smell the sweet fragrance of Meranda's hair. He slowly opens his eyes and isn't surprised to see that he's spooned up against her. Just as he expected this scene, he knows without a doubt that Dean is on the other side of her. It somehow feels…right. He moves his face closer to her thick chestnut hair, breathes in deeply and smiles. The scent is oddly soothing. Unlike the previous morning, he doesn't question what happened last night. He knows that they were watching television and fell asleep. He isn't sure which of them was responsible for the comforter from his bed, but it's not important. Feeling the need to stretch, he rolls out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom.

A few moments later, Dean begins to stir. He realizes that he is holding her hand that is pressed to his chest. He lifts it to his lips and gently kisses it. From behind him, he hears Meranda release a contented sigh and he smiles.

He rolls over to face her and props himself up on one elbow, still smiling. She yawns, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, then stretches and wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses him gently.

Smiling into his face, she softly says, "Good morning, beautiful."

"Hey, that's my line," he says chuckling.

Although he feels the need to take care of his regular morning duties, he can't seem to will himself to move. He could lay there looking into her eyes like this all day. As if she senses his dilemma, she removes her arms from his neck and begins to get out of bed.

Reluctantly, Dean follows her lead. He is no sooner on his feet than Sam is walking out of the bathroom.

Smiling at them both Sam says, "Good morning!"

"Well...good morning, Chipper Charles! What's got you so bright eyed and bushy tailed?" Dean quips back at him as they pass each other.

Sam's face reflects the thought he put into it before answering. "I don't know…the fact that I think I slept better last night than I have since…well, since I can remember. Plus, I'm no longer trying to get the little man in my skull to put down the pick axe. I just…feel good!" He was smiling brightly and had a slight bounce in his step.

Dean walked into the bathroom and peering from behind the door, he looked at his brother with mild surprise and laughed.

"I think I'm gonna grab a shower. Anyone wanna join me?" Dean called from the bathroom. "Sammy, that invite was _not_ for you," he added with a laugh.

Sam gave Meranda a mollifyingly disappointed tilt of his head. Walking to the bathroom, she paused in front of Sam and took his hands in hers. She looked down at their feet then slowly moving closer, she raised her eyes to meet his. They smiled warmly at each other. Gradually their lips met. They stood with their lips softly together breathing in each other's scents. As they parted, Sam let his lips light on her forehead. He breathed in the wonderful perfume of her hair and gently squeezed her hands before releasing them.

Meranda retrieved her shower supplies from her bag and slid quietly into the bathroom. Dean was already in the shower and, leaving the door ajar, she relieved herself before getting undressed. She went to the rear of the shower and pulled the curtain back slightly. Dean was just busy getting his lean body wet. She stepped into the shower after placing her things within reach and when he reached for the soap, she beat him to it.

"I've got this," she said seductively.

Dean wiped the water from his eyes and smiled. Meranda placed the motel soap back into its dish and picked up her own. She stood in front of him, working the soap up into a lather. She began running her slick, soapy hands over his neck and shoulders. He found the aroma of the soap incredibly enticing…it was like being enveloped by Meranda's very essence.

"Close your eyes," she said softly.

Dean complied and she carefully washed his hair, face and ears. When she finished, she placed her hands on either side of his face and gently leaned his head back into the water. She ran her hands over all the places she'd washed, rinsing the soap from his head and neck. She let her hands slide down his shoulders to his arms and then to his hands. She stepped back and pulled him forward.

After lathering her hands up again, she started on his shoulders. She turned him around to wash his back and he put his hands on the tile wall in front of him as if she were about to frisk him. She slowly traced the muscles of his shoulders and neck down his back as she bathed him. She lathered his sides and underarms. Reaching around him, she pressed her body against his and began washing his chest. He took in a sharp breath as she lingered on his nipples before working her way down to his sex. She spent a generous amount of time soaping every nook and cranny. When she turned him around, his mouth hungrily met hers as she began lathering his beautifully tight ass. They stepped under the water, their hands exploring each other's bodies. Dean's mouth left hers. His tongue followed the curve of her throat as she tilted her head. One hand went to his head where she eagerly pressed his mouth to her skin while the other pulled his slippery body into hers. His hand slides down between her buttery smooth thighs and he buries two of his fingers deep inside her moist, hot center as his mouth glides down her chest engulfing her closest nipple. He feels her nails against his back as her hips begin to grind against his hand. As her back begins to arch more he feels her release. Wasting no time, he turns her around and bends her at the waist. Her hands against the tile wall, he plants his hard length inside her. He runs his hands up her silky back and into her hair, grasping it at her scalp as he thrusts into her repeatedly. As she reached her second climax, she reached behind her, grasping at his side with one hand while steadying herself with the other. She cries out with satisfaction as she feels his powerful release. His breathing still ragged, he leans forward, wraps his arms around her and rests against her back.

A moment later, without withdrawing, Dean pulled her upright, his arms still wrapped around her. He nuzzled her neck and released a satiated sigh. She wrapped her hands behind his neck and pressed her head to his, hugging him. She turned around and kissed him passionately before bathing his now dirty parts again and, of course, bathing her own.

When she's finished, she turns off the water and opens the curtain. Grabbing a towel, she begins carefully drying him. He watches her silently, but intently, cooperating when he needs to...the smile on his face never changing. He's never felt more cherished than he does at this moment and he wishes it could last forever.

When she's finished drying him, she begins working on herself. Dean remains focused on her until she notices.

"Brush your teeth...you have to get finished in here or I won't be able to dress you," she says with a flirtatious laugh.

Although he follows her orders, he still spends the majority of his time staring at her reflection while she finishes dressing herself. After brushing her hair, she pulls it into a ponytail and secures it with a hair tie from her pocket. He watches her brush her teeth and when she's finished, she turns to face him.

"Ready?" she asks.

Even though he's not even sure what she's asking him to be ready for, he gives two quick nods of his head in agreement. With that, she takes him by the hand and leads him out into the bedroom.

The first thing she notices is that the beds have been stripped and remade with new linens. There's also a large stack of fresh towels on the table. The sight of the fresh linens sets off a slight panic in her belly.

Quickly, she turns to Sam who is sitting on the edge of his bed watching Sponge Bob and asks as calmly as she can manage, "The owner changed the beds?"

"Huh? Oh, no...I went to the office to get them, but no one answered so I just took them and did it myself."

"Thanks Sam. That was very thoughtful of you," she said after breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

After checking to make sure he locked the door back, she continued her work with Dean.

She led him to the dresser where she'd seen him take his clothes from the day before and opened the drawer. Grabbing one of each item and placing them on the dresser, she closed the drawer and knelt before him. Seeing her in this position instantly began arousing him. She opened his boxers and held them while he stepped into them. As she pulled them up, she caught sight of his magnificence and although she was tempted to alleviate it for him, she knew that they needed to make the most of their time today. Her eyes met his and the hopeful look he gave her made her smile before closing her eyes and taking his hard length into her mouth where he swelled with anticipation. When she withdrew, she quickly pulled his boxers up to cover him. She looked up at him again and had to stifle the laugh that sprang up inside her – he was almost on the verge of pouting.

She put her hands on his waist and maneuvered him over to the bed where she had him sit. She then proceeded to put his socks and pants on, having him button and zip them. She stood up and pulled his shirt over his head and held it while he put his arms in the sleeves. After pulling his shirt down over him and smoothing out a few wrinkles, she placed her hand on his chest and sighed deeply. He looked at her and smiled a contented smile. She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly before withdrawing to find his shoes. As she passed Sam, she paused long enough to tenderly caress his face. He smiled up at her with the same contented smile his brother wore.

After putting Dean's shoes on, she grabbed her bag and went back into the bathroom. There she dried her personal effects and put them back into her bag. Before leaving, she checked the salt in the window.

Back in the bedroom, the brothers are watching Sponge Bob. She makes her rounds, inconspicuously checking the salt in these windows and at the threshold. She takes a moment to pull the curtain aside and peer out, paying close attention to the office. When she's satisfied with the lack of activity, she turns back to the boys.

"Who's hungry?" she asks.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's notes: **_Surprise! I still don't own these characters. FYI - the weapons mentioned in this chapter are real. I went to several different sites and picked the ones I thought they would like. Also, the music is obviously real and both the titles and lyrics may or may not serve to have meaning for the particular areas they were chosen to appear in. Enjoy and please review...otherwise, I have no idea whether you're enjoying or not.

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_**Chapter 13**

Before leaving, Meranda managed to retrieve the dagger from the drawer without being noticed simply by telling them that she'd forgotten something in the room…it wasn't _exactly_ a lie. She _had_ left something that she didn't want to be without, but she hadn't forgotten it. She slipped it into her bag and they were on their way.

She wished so badly that she could just take them to her house. She knew that if she had homefield advantage she'd have so much more confidence in her ability to deal with what was coming. That was an impossibility though. If she moved them now, it could be her biggest mistake. She was contemplating this as they sat having breakfast at Benny's Truck Stop, a few miles outside of town. Deep in thought, she was startled when she felt Dean's hand delicately caress her cheek.

He smiled, though his eyes conveyed concern, and tilted his head, "Everything okay in there?"

She smiled in return…and lied, "Yeah, yeah…I was just thinking about what we could do today. What would you guys say to the flea market?"

Dean and Sam exchanged similar looks of interest, half shrugged to each other and nodded to Meranda.

"Great! You're gonna love it! Largest flea market in the state," she said with bona fide enthusiasm.

She leaned over and gave Dean a quick peck on the lips. She looked into his eyes and was amazed by their beauty. She wanted more than anything to just let herself get lost in them, but that wasn't a luxury she could afford right now. Instead she smiled a genuine smile that bore all of her longings for him. Dean's eyes softened and reflected those longings back to her.

She broke their gaze and looked at Sam whose eyes were also fixed on her. She looked into his eyes, reached across the table and gave his hand a light squeeze.

"You guys about ready to go?" she asked.

"Let's go buy us some fleas!" Dean said with a broad smile.

They pile into the Impala, Dean, Meranda and Sam. (If the boys' focus had been anywhere except on Meranda, they might have seen Bobby's car parked in the distance with him sleeping in the front seat.) Following her directions, Dean pulls the Impala out onto the highway – Boston's "Amanda" blasting from the radio, windows down and the throaty sound of the Glasspack mufflers announcing their arrival. Dean puts his arm across the back of the seat and around her shoulders. She tilts her head back and turns to lean against him while throwing her legs over Sam's. Sam absently holds one of her hands and gently strokes her legs. Dean lets his arm fall across her body and she takes it in her free hand and intertwines her fingers with his. She closes her eyes and wishes that they could just stay like this forever.

All too soon, the ride is over and she feels the car slow and turn. She takes in a deep breath, holds it and smiles as if she has just inhaled the actual moment. She waits until she feels Dean parking the car before she even opens her eyes. When the engine stops, she sits up and looks around the parking lot intently, glad to see that it's fairly packed.

As the brothers get out of the car, Meranda grabs her bag. By the time she maneuvers from the middle of the bench seat to the passenger side door, both have a hand extended to offer her assistance in getting out. She looks up at them. They both wear matching ample smiles and just the sight of those grins puts one on her face as well. She puts her bag over her neck and shoulder, takes each of their hands and gets out of the car.

"Gentlemen, before you stands Stuart's Flea Market & Trade Emporium. A five acre building guaranteed to hold things you've never seen and didn't know you needed at a price you can afford," she announces with an odd sense of pride.

The cinderblock building looks like part shopping mall, part tent city. It has two rows of large tents extending from either side and these are teeming with activity. The smells from the food vendors reach them even halfway across the parking lot and although he's not hungry, Dean's mouth waters. He sniffs the air loudly.

"Fuck me! We have found fair food paradise!" he happily exclaims.

Sam and Meranda look at him and laugh.

"Dean, we just ate," Sam reminds him.

"Shhh…you're harshing my mellow." He sniffs the air again and with his free hand rubs his stomach, then says to his belly, "Don't you listen to him…we _will_ be getting in on _this_ action!" He pats his belly comfortingly.

Meranda and Sam look at each other, roll their eyes in unison and laugh again.

As they make their way into the building, Meranda looks at the giant clock mounted just inside the door. It's barely noon. She has a little over seven hours to fuel up, rest and prepare.

They start out on the right side of the building. Still hand in hand, they walk from vendor to vendor. At times it's so crowded they can barely get through, but instead of releasing their grip on her hands, they tighten them just enough to ensure they won't be separated even momentarily as they weave their way through the clusters of people. They have almost gone halfway through the length of the building and they've had more than a hundred people rub up against them to get past them. Sam thinks briefly how this would be a pickpocket's dream...a thought that makes him suddenly look at his brother as it's an area he's always been gifted in. If the thought has crossed Dean's mind, the smile he shoots Sam doesn't reveal it.

They stop at various vendors, mainly those selling electronics. They marvel at the unbelievable collection of movies and video games. It takes all Sam can manage to talk Dean out of dragging them into the "back rooms" to check out the adult collections. Meanwhile, Meranda laughs at their banter but never chooses a side.

Leaving the most recent vendor, Dean suddenly stops and consequently not only pulls Meranda and Sam to a halt, but causes the small crowd who were traveling in their wake to run into them. After apologizing to everyone involved, he tilts his head back slightly, closes his eyes and his nostrils visibly flare.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam says.

"Shhh!" Dean replies, as if the sound of Sam's voice might impair his sense of smell.

His eyes open wide and he begins walking, this time doing double time, almost dragging Sam and Meranda behind him. When he reaches what he's searching for he stops and looks around with bright, smiling eyes. He has located The Food Court. His mouth waters as he savors the list of the available selections written on a large whiteboard: chicken-fried bacon, fried avocado bites, spaghetti and meatball on a stick, fried frog legs, hot beef sundaes, pizza cones, the Krispy Kreme chicken sandwich, deep fried Twinkies, fried Coca-Cola and sure to be his favorite – Key Lime pie on a stick. Dean had never met a piece of pie he didn't like and putting it in a stick? Well that was just freaking genius!

Although Sam and Meranda weren't willing to try any of the deep fried delicacies, they were delighted to settle for something to drink. After retrieving their order, they sat at one of the large clinically white tables in the open pavilion and let Dean consume his fatty treats.

"How do you like it so far?" Meranda asked.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off. "If they had nothing but these wonderful, deep-fried pieces of heaven, it would _still_ be perfect."

Meranda smiled sincerely at him, happy that he was enjoying himself. She turned to Sam who was trying to conceal his revulsion while watching his brother consume the greasy bits. She couldn't contain the laughter that swelled up within her.

She began to reach for Dean's wrist and when he saw her hand coming toward him, he instinctively put his arms up to guard his food. Laughing even harder, she grasped his wrist and turned it so that she could read his watch. It was after 2:00 p.m. She knew they needed to start heading back toward the entrance if they were going to get back in time to rest at all.

"You ready to head out? We can start on the other side," she directed this to Sam.

Doing his best to stop watching Dean, he answered, "Sure, if you are."

"Hey, I wanna get some pie on a stick before we go," Dean said.

To this, Meranda smiled and gave him a wink causing them both to blush.

Once he'd gotten his pie, they were off again, hand in hand, heading back toward the entrance on the opposite side of the building. On the way, they stopped at a knife vendor. Sam's amazement that you could simply purchase weapons in such a crowded venue and walk out with it was eclipsed by his fascination at the selection offered. Dean on the other hand was impressed at the owner's selection of music as Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" played in the background, which only served to enhance his shopping experience.

After culling through several dozen different shapes and sizes of blades, the boys find the ones that they just can't live without and purchase them. Sam gets a Buck 110 Dual Action and a Leverletto Plus and Dean the Italian Hunter Ring Pull and a Walt's Classic eleven inch Stiletto. Even though they all boast a degree of silver, they will coat the blades with it as soon as the opportunity arises.

Content with their purchases, they don't entertain stopping at any of the other vendors on their way to the car.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:**_ I do not own these character...I know, I was shocked to find that out too. Anyway...here we are...edging our way to the climax of the story. I'm so curious as to what the readers think - is Bobby right? Is he going to kill her? Will Dean ever taste another pie on a stick again? *LOL* Read, enjoy and review... :)

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_**Chapter 14**

Bobby woke with a start. It took him a few moments to identify his surroundings and once he had his bearings, his mind fought to pinpoint exactly what he was hearing when he woke up. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn it was the sound of the Impala waking him. But if the either of the boys were close enough for the car to wake him, surely they would've seen him. They were both incredibly observant when it came to their surroundings. Hell, they hadn't survived this long by making bonehead moves like not knowing who and what was within sight distance.

He had decided the truck stop was a safer place to catch a little shut eye than the motel parking lot. He didn't know what he was walking into to begin with and well over a half a day had passed since his conversation with either of the boys. That's a lot of time for a soul sucking she-bitch…_if that's what she is_, he reminded himself. The part of him that saw these boys as their preadolescent selves had already been judge and jury on the subject and was urging him to also take on the role of executioner. It was the part of him who knew these boys were no longer boys, but proven hunters, killers in their own right, that kept reminding him that this may not be what he feared.

On the drive, he'd spent a lot of time asking himself what kind of creature could be coy enough to weasel her way into their lair without detection. This wasn't June Cleaver's living room this thing was waltzing into. These boys could _sense_ evil. No dish had ever been so tempting that it could get Dean's dick to out think his brain when it came right down to it. And even if it _had_ managed to get things to that point, Sam was no Dean...not when it came to letting his crotch do his thinking for him. Sam would've spotted it from a mile away...wouldn't he?

He took the time to go into the truck stop, use the facilities and grab something to eat. Despite the strength he felt he knew he needed to be fueled up. He'd been running on this same adrenaline all night and it was bound to run out. Without the fuel, he was liable to lose steam at a critical moment. He was not about to have this thing go wrong because he refused to stop long enough for a sandwich.

He took his food to the car and headed for the motel. He would need to make a few drive-by's before he could formulate a plan. He'd done a lot of thinking on that during his nine hour plus ride too. As much as he'd love to run in there, guns a-blazin' so to speak, he really did need to make sure that his trip was even warranted. If by some chance of fate he was wrong, he didn't think "Sorry for ganking your girlfriend" would smooth things over much.

On his first pass, he noticed that the footprint of the motel is surrounded by a fairly thick tree line. There was only five feet or so from the back of the little cottages to the edge of the forest – just enough to mow and keep it looking clean. He also noticed the red '88 Cavalier sitting beside one of the cottages and the absence of the Impala. He hoped like hell that this was a good sign...that it meant they were okay and just out, doing whatever it is this place offered for the day. His mind began sending him mental images of the demons from the pictures he'd seen during his research...they were sitting behind the wheel of Dean's baby, full from sucking down the souls of the brothers. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he found a place to turn around and drive back the way he'd came.

On pass number two he saw an access road for the woods on the same side as the cottage with the Cavalier beside it. It appeared to be a well cleared path that wound and disappeared into the thick shrubbery. He decided that he would drive that path and at least get his car off the road and out of sight. It took another pass before the coast was clear and he could turn into the woods without being seen.

Just as it appeared to do, the path wound into the trees and ended at a small clearing just big enough to turn a vehicle around. He took advantage of this and turned the car so that it was facing the direction of the road. If nothing else, he'd be prepared if he had to high tail it out of there in a hurry.

He got out of the car and took in his surroundings. The ground was uneven outside of the clearing and pretty much unkempt. There were several fallen trees and a thick carpet of dead leaves, all in different phases of decomposition. There were wild vines growing haphazardly throughout the tangle of trees and it was easy to see that it would serve him well to get the lay of the land between the motel and the clearing before he had to maneuver through it with purpose.

He could see the back of the cottages in the distance, but the brush was so thick that the landscape appeared broken. As he made his way toward the buildings, he did his best to clear a straight path. He took the time to mark a few saplings that lined his makeshift route so that he could easily find it in a rush – escape was always high on the priority list.

Once he got closer to the motel, he began clearing the leaves from the path as well. They were loud under his feet and would certainly lower any chances of being stealthy. Once he got to the edge of the tree line, he peeked out down the length of the forest. He could walk unobstructed from cottage to cottage with ease in the space between the buildings and trees...but he could also easily be seen from the road doing it as long as it was still daylight. Which, _if_ (he almost hated the taste of that word at this point) she was a succubus, she would be strongest at night. That meant he needed to use the daylight to his advantage as much as he possibly could.

Since each room had a window that faced the trees, he figured that was a good a place to start as any. He would ease out into the clearing and check each of these windows in hopes of seeing a visible salt line on the other side. If he didn't find one here, he would have to make his way around to the other side and check the windows of the cottages there. He was checking the road by way of the clearing when he heard the Impala's throaty approach in the distance. He took two steps back into the trees and said a silent prayer as his heart began racing in his chest.

He was standing still, but his insides were shaking. When he realized it, he did his best to make it stop, but he knew it was because of his closeness to the situation. If these were just some random yahoos who'd hooked up with this creature, he'd be as calm as if he were strolling through a park. But these boys were his and that meant that a lot more was on the line. If things went bad as they definitely had the potential to do, he'd have to live with that for the rest of his life. He'd already been kicking himself for not rushing down here sooner. Now would be a great time for that other voice to speak up – the one that kept saying that maybe he's wrong, maybe she's human, maybe Dean's really in love…but that pussy chose this moment to keep his mouth shut and let him suffer.

The Impala pulled into the motel parking lot and parked next to the Cavalier. From Bobby's vantage point, he could see them clearly. They appeared to be okay – everyone was either smiling or laughing, no one looked emaciated or drained…in fact they all looked rather healthy and energetic. Hell, if he was willing to admit it to himself, they were almost glowing! Bobby's face showed all the weight of the confusion and concern his mind was carrying.

"What the fuck," he whispered to himself.

The words were no more out of his mouth two seconds before Meranda's smile disappeared and her eyes shot to the tree line. Bobby drew in a quick breath and leaned backwards, hoping like hell that he did it before she saw him. His mind began racing – did she hear him? How in blue blazes could she hear him from that distance and over the sound of the car when he whispered so quietly that he could barely hear himself? And not only to hear him, but to know what direction that whisper was coming from? This confirmed one thing to him – whatever she was, it wasn't human.

Truth be told, he hadn't really formulated a plan until now, but her display made everything in his gut scream for action. He decided right then and there that he had to get her before they got inside.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note:** _Despite what I've done with them, I still do not own these characters...much to my dismay. Enjoy and please review._

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_**Chapter 15**

Pulling into the motel, Sam had been teasing Dean about his dangerous lure to anything fried – identifiable or not.

"Dean, you'd eat dog shit if they deep fried it just right," Sam had laughed heartily.

Instead of denying it, Dean paused. "What are we talking here? Cajun or Tempura?"

This had gotten a roar of laughter from Meranda. "That wasn't on the menu was it," she joined in.

As if this proved his argument true beyond doubt, Sam nodded and opened his hands in front of him, his face saying, "I rest my case."

Once they were parked, recovering from their jovial ride, Dean's hand was on the key getting ready to kill the engine. The commercial on the radio had just ended and there was one small moment of dead air before the announcer came on to let his listener's know that Nickelback was on the way next with "How You Remind Me". During that brief silence, Meranda heard something…something from behind the rooms. For just an instant, she was on alert, every nerve in her body on edge and ready to push her into action before she realized that it was a man's voice she'd heard. In mere seconds she realized that the access road for the woods behind the motel would have lead to the area where the voice seemed to originate. It was more than likely county workers doing whatever it is that they do. Of course, if she'd taken the time to realize that it was Sunday, her reaction might have been a little more defensive.

She released a sigh of relief and decided that now would be a great time to get in a little rest. She was stepping out of the car, thinking how wonderful it was going to feel for the three of them to be spooned together again and reminding herself to savor every aspect of it when she noticed the very confused look on Sam and Dean's faces…right before she was jerked by her arm sharply. Suddenly her back was slammed up against a strange body, one arm of a strong, burly man she didn't recognize draped across her chest. His other hand quickly went to her throat with a large knife. She felt the cool density of the blade against her skin, but she also felt his fear and confusion.

Her eyes went pleadingly to Dean's – his face a snarl of emotion.

"Bobby! What are you doing?" Sam demanded.

"I'm potentially saving your asses," Bobby shot back.

"And how, exactly, are you figuring this?" Dean implored.

Realizing that they're not only standing in the open parking lot, but out in broad daylight, Bobby said, "We'll finish this discussion inside, if you don't mind."

"Let's talk about this," Sam tried.

"We'll talk, but it ain't gonna happen out here boy…now get that damned door open and get your asses in there," Bobby commanded.

Not knowing what else to do, Sam digs the key from his pocket and opens the door. When he sees that Dean isn't moving and his eyes are fixed on Meranda's, he grabs him by the arm and pulls him inside. Bobby tightens his grip on her as they walk into the room – the boys, facing him, take a few steps backward, Sam's hands patting the air in front of him in a "calm down" motion. Once inside, Bobby kicks the door closed behind him.

"Alright, we're inside…now tell us why you're being such a megadouche!" Dean yelled.

Before Bobby could answer, Sam said, "He thinks she's a succubus."

"A what?" Dean half laughed. "What the hell, Bobby? Do we look like we're in danger here? Do we?" his voice escalated in volume.

Bobby didn't answer.

"Okay…okay…tell me, what exactly are the 'signs and symptoms'," Dean said condescendingly.

Bobby opens his mouth to answer as Meranda brings her hands up and places them on his. He feels her the warmth of her hand on his own and that's the last thing he remembers. With that touch, Bobby collapses and in one smooth motion she takes the knife from his hand as she lowers him to the floor with ease. Sidling two steps away from him, she stands in front of the boys with the knife raised defensively trying to decide how to proceed from here. The brothers exchange matching looks of shock and bewilderment. She swallows hard and takes in a deep breath, her eyes darting from Dean to Sam and back to Dean.

"Most often a true succubus charms men with her beauty. She hypnotizes them, making them puppets, slaves, minion to her desires," Meranda says.

"Ooh…what kind of desires?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"Dean!" Sam said, his eyes wide. "Now is _not_ the fucking time!"

She took in another deep breath. Time was passing too quickly, they were going to have to know one way or the other. This isn't how she wanted it to happen, but like most things in life, not everything goes according to plan.

"You were marked so to speak," she continued. "And I've been doing my damnedest to keep you safe."

This had their attention. Their eyes narrowed and brows furrowed in befuddlement.

"So," Sam's breath caught in his throat as he struggled with what to say next, "you're what? A hunter of the supernatural persuasion?"

Before she could answer, Dean cut in. "Wait, you said, 'most often'…that would mean that…"

"That I'm saying it's not always the case," she finished for him.

"You sound a little sure of yourself," Sam said.

She took a deep breath and realigned her grip on the knife before continuing. "I'm going to start explaining and I want you to promise me that you'll let me finish before deciding whether or not to kill me." She said it so calmly you'd think she was speaking metaphorically, but the weight of the decision she'd made was evident in her eyes which somehow looked different. The shine that had been in them earlier was dulled.

Sam and Dean looked at each other blankly and then back at her with narrowed curiosity. Dean broke the silence.

"Before you say anything, what about Bobby," he asked, "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's just sleeping," she answered.

Sam's eyes narrowed again. "Sleeping?" he asked in disbelief.

Taking another sidestep away from Bobby's prostrated form, she answered, "Yes, sleeping. Check him if you don't believe me," she said nodding her head toward his limp body.

As Sam stepped forward and knelt, she steeled herself, ready to act if she felt the least bit threatened. He put two fingers on Bobby's neck to check his pulse and Bobby let out a loud snore. Sam's wide eyes flew to Dean's – their shocked expressions mirroring each other. Sam looked up at her in astonishment.

"Oh, I've _got_ to hear this," he said looking at Dean as he went from kneeling on the floor to sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dean stood silent, Sam and Meranda looking at him…waiting. Finally he took in a deep breath and took his place next to his brother on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, but shouldn't Rip VanStinkle here be awake to hear this too?" Dean asked, nodding toward Bobby who was now snoring loudly.

Meranda nodded her head, consenting to his request. Sam leaned down to Bobby from the bed and shook him, gradually increasing in ferocity until he stirred and was finally awake.

"What…what? I'm awake," Bobby said as if he'd be roused from slumber in his own bed.

Disoriented, he looked around trying to piece together how he got where he was. When he saw the boys sitting on the bed and Meranda standing with the knife, it didn't take him long to put together at least a crude version of the events that gotten him there. Unfortunately, having an explanation, no matter how vague or detailed, wasn't doing a thing to quell his anger.

"Are you shittin' me?" Bobby exclaimed. "How in the hell did you two let _this_ happen?"

"I believe the lady with the knife has the floor," Dean replied, his brows raised.

Meranda didn't wait for any of them to say another word before beginning.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note:** _This has by far been the most difficult chapter to write, despite the fact that it was written in one day and it seemed to flow non-stop. These guys can be somewhat uncooperative at times... *LOL* Oh yeah, in case you forgot, I don't own these characters. All reviews welcome - good, bad or indifferent.  


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_**Chapter 16**

"As I said earlier, it's _most often_ the case with a true succubus, but it's not an unbroken rule. My mother was Meridiana – the only succubus ever referred to as 'non-malevolent'."

Sam and Dean looked to Bobby for confirmation. His eyes had narrowed and his mouth pinched – he was clearly going through his mental database trying to recall the name. He seemed to recall running across something about one that wasn't following the same program as the rest, but he wasn't looking for that one. The one he was looking for was leaving a jagged scar of dead men across the country. The realization that he'd even had the information to ignore was at least some sort of comfort that maybe she was telling the truth. He nodded silently and the boys' turned their attention back to her.

"When she fell in love with my father, she knew she had to change. Not only would he frown upon the fact that her sustenance was obtained through sex with other men, but she was afraid that she might kill him accidentally in the throws of passion."

"Now _that's_ the way to go," Dean smirked. He felt Sam's punch, but didn't lose the dreamy, distant look on his face.

Meranda ignored them and continued, "She taught herself to take a minimal amount of energy from humans – both male and female – with just a touch of their skin. _Energy_ – not their souls. These people would feel a great liking for her afterward which would allow her access to them again in the future. As a succubus, sex with a man, especially if she consumes his soul during the act, can keep her sustained for months. But with the technique my mother used, she could feed when she was hungry, cause little to no effect on those being fed from and not have to bear the guilt of taking their souls."

"So she just took a sip of their energy here and there, people around her took a few more naps than normal and that's it?" Sam asked, his face echoing the same curiosity and doubt that his two counterparts were showing.

"Well, I wouldn't say that…she didn't just learn how to live off the energy. She learned to feed it to humans too. During the times of the Black Death, we traveled to places hit the hardest by the plague, giving energy to those who were just beginning to get sick so they would have the strength to leave and get better."

She paused giving them time to absorb this information and waiting to see if they had any questions so far. When no one spoke, she continued.

"My father, Gerbert d'Aurillac, was very much human. You may know him as Pope Sylvester II."

The already quiet room became deafeningly so, as if everyone was holding their breath.

"Okay, I know I don't know my Popes, but I know that that one's been out of the play book for a long time. What kind of a time frame are we talking about here?" Sam finally asked.

"Dude, you're not supposed to ask a lady's age," Dean said, cutting his eyes at his brother. "But just for argument's sake, what kind of age difference are we talking about here," he asked, his index finger wagging back and forth from her to himself.

She took in a deep breath and released it, her eyes looking distant, reflecting her regret for what she was about to say.

"I was born in the year 1001."

"That makes you…" Dean paused, doing the math in his head.

"Just over 1,000 years old," she said, saving him the trouble.

There was another moment of weighty silence as this information seemed to sit in the room with them.

"Well, let me be the first to say that you are one hell of a fine cougar," Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows and slightly smirking.

Sam punched him again.

He jerked his head toward Sam sharply, "Hey, I'm just sayin'…"

"Okay, so you're telling us that you're not whatever it is that's out there killing these men, but you also said something about us being 'marked' and you protecting us. What exactly is that about?" Sam asked pointedly.

"Soraya. Do you remember the night at the bar?"

Sam released an uncomfortable grunt, quickly looked at Bobby, then answered, slightly blushing, "Vaguely."

"The girl at the bar – thin, dark hair?"

Both of the boys pondered the question. Almost simultaneously they recall Meranda's sudden urge to leave that night and her preoccupation with a woman who had come into the bar during their game. When she saw the recollection on their faces, she continued.

"Succubi can sense each other. Depending on how strong they are and how recently they've fed, they _can_ possess the ability to pinpoint each other with incredible accuracy. My mother taught me how to shield myself…and others…so that they can only get a general vicinity."

"You're saying you can block her radar?" Dean asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, I guess you could look at it like that. The point is, she's been following the two of you for a long time now. When they pick out prey, they mark them."

Sam spoke up, "Wait, number one, you keep saying 'they' like you're not one of them…and number two, what kind of 'mark'?"

"I say '_they_', Sam, because I am _NOT_ one of those…those…_things_! Not only am I half-human, but I've _never_ eaten a soul in the entire _millenium_ that I've been on this planet!" Meranda said defensively, her face flush with anger and frustration.

She was taking a moment to regain her composure before continuing when Bobby spoke up.

"So what's with this thing you seem to have going on with these two," he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the brothers.

She rolled her shoulders back and let out a deep sigh in an attempt to relieve some of the tension that seemed to have abruptly settled there. She hadn't realized until now how many confessions were going to be required of her and although speaking them aloud would set her free of them, she also knew they would change everything and she had so been enjoying the perfect fantasia-like quality of it up until now. She quickly glanced at the clock before answering.

"I can't explain everything to you because we're running out of time. She's coming tonight. She's already here and has been since last night. The owner didn't come when you tried this morning Sam because she's more than likely dead. I felt Soraya feeding on someone in that house and she's trying to build up her strength so she wasn't just snacking."

Dean had been quietly listening and trying his best to put together some semblance of what exactly was going on before he finally broke in.

"Wait a sec, you were planning to take her on alone?" he asked in amazement.

Meranda turned her free hand palm up, her face saying, "Well, duh…what the hell did you think I was gonna do?"

Bobby sat thinking for a moment. "So you used them as bait?" he asked accusingly.

"No you jackass! They were already sighted by her. The mark I mentioned earlier? It's only visible to other succubi so they know that particular human is off limits for them. It also serves as a primitive sort of homing device that allows her to keep tabs on them. By shielding them, it made it impossible for her to find them," Meranda said, not hiding the contempt she felt.

"Oh, so you just stole her happy meal then…" he shot back bitterly.

"No, Bobby, she saved us!" Dean asserted.

"You don't know _what_ she did! Besides, you lied to me because of her!" Bobby yelled back at him.

"Lied to you?"

"Yes, lied to me! When I called you and asked who was in the background, you lied to me!"

Dean thought for a minute and then a huge smile rose on his face. "Oh…yeah…that…" His eyes went to Meranda's. He raised his eyebrows and half-shrugged, the smile still on his face.

"Oh, so you're saying that you lied to me because you were trying to save the feelings of the demon girl who was probably giving you car dome at the time?"

Sam, Dean and Meranda sent him a look of disdain in triplicate.

"No," Dean answered, "I lied to you because I thought it was more polite than pointing out that your sense of timing sucks donkey balls! Honestly? At the time, I just wanted off the phone."

Before the argument could progress further, Meranda gave them all an ultimatum.

"Look, either we're in this together or we're against each other. We only have a little over two hours before she's going to be at full strength and frankly, if you're not gonna kill me, I'm gonna need some rest or I might as well walk out there unarmed."

As soon as she spoke these words, she walked slowly to the dresser and laid the knife on it. She turned, walked to Sam's bed and sat down, staring at her hands in her lap.

The three men watched this display without moving from their positions, their faces broadcasting the astonishment they felt. They looked from her to each other in silence.

Finally, Sam spoke.

"Look, she's had ample opportunity to kill us and hasn't. I believe what she's saying and I believe that she's helped us…to what extent? We may not have time to find out right now, but I'd like to _have_ the chance to find out after we're done with this Soraya bitch."

Bobby let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I reckon she's our best source of intel…if nothing else," he conceded.

Without a word, Dean stood and walked to Meranda. He knelt down in front of her and covered her hands with one of his. With his free hand, he put a finger under her chin and raised her face. Her eyes refused to follow and he tilted and lowered his head until her eyes met his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes welling up with tears. "I really didn't want to mislead you…and I know it's a lot to take in…but if it's any consolation, I _do_ care for you, probably much more than I should…" she broke off, ripping her eyes from his and trying her best to stifle the sob that was rising up within her.

Dean leaned forward and rested his head against hers. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smells of her. When he released them, he asked, "How is that that you make me feel so safe? Is that part of it – this 'ability' of yours? How does it work?"

The sincerity of his questions were apparent in his tone. She knew without a doubt that the answers she'd given them had only given Dean and Sam more questions. She vowed to herself at that moment that if she made it through the night, she'd give them all the answers they wanted.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked into Dean's – her fatigue crystal clear in them.

"I'm so tired…" she said. "Lay with me? Please?"

Dean smiled at her. "Sure…"


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's note: **_This is chapter is a little longer than some of the others, but I hope it answers some questions. I've tried to answer a lot of them, but if you see that I've missed one or have one that I haven't covered, feel free to ask. I'm all for making the story better. Enjoy...and please review. Oh! Guess what? I don't own these characters...I know! I was shocked too!

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_**Chapter 17**

When Dean and Meranda lay down and cuddled up together like it was naptime on any given Sunday afternoon, it took all Sam could manage to keep Bobby in check.

"That don't just creep you right the hell out?" he whispered to Sam as he stood up. "She just told us that she's a thousand year old demon!"

"Half-demon," Sam reminded him as he stood too. "And one that's willing risk her own ass to help _us_, I might add."

"Yeah...well, it's been my experience that these things don't just volunteer to help unless there's something in it for them...and typically, it ends up costing whoever they're 'helping' a pretty penny."

"Honestly Bobby, I don't believe it's like that...not this time. If I had to put money on it, I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that she's not taken so much as a drop of energy from either of us."

"Well, let's just call her the new Mother Teresa," Bobby said indignantly.

Sam drags his thumb and index finger across his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, clenching his teeth and taking in a deep breath. After a moment of silence, he looks Bobby in the eyes.

"Look, we know you don't like it, but we're okay with it...can you at least respect that? I mean, obviously keeping us safe, warning us about impending danger and not killing _your_ militant ass isn't enough to warrant any. Oh, and let's not forget the face that she was willing to take this thing on, with or without our help."

Bobby was quiet for a moment, trying his best to pick the right words.

"I know that you two have feelings for her, but they're not _your_ feelings...they're feelings that she made you _think_ you had. You heard what she said! Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if..."

Sam cut him off.

"Get this straight Bobby, because this will be _THE_..._last_..._time_ I say it...I don't give a rat's ass whether she made us have those feelings or not. Either way, we have them...and they're as real to us as if they developed on their own. Do I understand it? No, but I'm not gonna pick it apart until there's nothing left of it either. If you wanna keep an eye on her because you're afraid she's a threat, go ahead, but keep it to yourself and know that you're probably gonna miss the real threat that will end up taking you out."

Without waiting for a response, Sam walked through the room collecting weapons that were hidden in various places. Once he had all he could carry, he took them to the little table, sat in one of the chairs and began checking each one, making sure they were ready.

Bobby stood quietly by the door, his gaze bouncing from Sam to Dean and the half-demon. He looked down at the floor, his eyes distant. Sam was right about one thing, he didn't like it. But he wasn't just gonna jump in his car and go home over it either. The more they had to fight this thing, the better – of that he had no doubt. Instead, he went around the room to the places Sam hadn't, collecting more weapons and joined Sam at the table with them.

Sam looked up from his work and acknowledged him.

"I'm gonna leave my car where it is for now. It'd definitely be to our advantage if she's expecting three and finds four," Bobby said.

Sam nodded wordlessly in agreement.

On Sam's bed, Dean was spooned up behind Meranda, his arm over her holding her tightly to him. He had listened to the exchange between Bobby and Sam and couldn't have been more pleased with his little brother's final response. If Meranda had been paying attention, she'd given absolutely no indication of it. Her breathing had remained steady and even – the breathing pattern of sleep. He lay there, knowing that his mind should be racing with all sorts of questions, but instead, he was completely content just quietly breathing in the scent of her hair and in no time he was asleep too.

Almost an hour and a half later, Sam sat on the bed next to Meranda. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and she stirred, a faint moan escaped her lips. With that one gesture, everything in Sam wanted to curl up beside her. He closed his eyes, remembered waking to the smell of her hair and smiled.

Opening his eyes, he fought the urge to join them and shook Dean's arm lightly. Dean opened his eyes and looked at Sam, slightly confused. He took in a deep breath and her scent coaxed a smile from his lips. He nuzzled his way through her hair to her neck and kissed it. She released a frustrated sigh before rolling onto her back. Dean propped himself up on his elbow and was looking down into her face, smiling.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said gently.

"Hey! That's my line," she said, returning his smile with one of her own.

She turns to look at Sam who is looking at her intently, smiling as well. She takes his hand in hers, gently stroking the back of it with her thumb.

"Everything ok," she asks him.

His smile broadens. "Everything's fine," he answers before lifting her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

Using her free hand, she pulls Dean's wristwatch clad arm into view and checks the time.

"We need to get moving."

With that, Sam released her hand and Dean rolled off the bed and onto his feet. Bobby took all this in without comment and when he finally did speak, Dean and Meranda looked surprised to see him still there.

"We need to know what we're dealing with here. I mean, we've got lots of tricks to deal with demons, but is there anything special we need to know?"

Meranda thought for a moment, realizing that she has no clue how much they know about the subject and wishing they had more time. She decides to give them the condensed version, at least for now.

"Soraya is a Lilin – a child of Adam and Lilith...a true succubus."

"Wait, Adam? Like 'Adam and Eve', Adam?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"Yes, Eve was Lilith's replacement when she refused to submit to Adam's will. We really don't have time to go into the whole history of it, but I can tell you this: She can charm with just a look. Her voice alone can convince a sane man to cut his own throat without questioning why. She's strong, but she can be beaten."

"While you were resting, we took the time to do a little research," Sam said. "The only ways we could find to oust a succubus were the same ways we'd deal with ordinary, run of the mill demons."

Bobby had a small book open in front of him on the table. He turned it around so that it faced her and pointed to a large set of symbols.

"Would this work on her?"

Meranda stepped forward and studied the symbols carefully, tracing parts of it with her fingertip. Her eyes opened wide and flew to Bobby's.

"I need a piece of paper and a pen," she said excitedly.

Everyone jumped into action trying to locate what she needed.

"I got it!" Sam shouted triumphantly, pulling both from his laptop case.

He put them on the table in front of her and she quickly began drawing out the same symbols in the book, only changing two of them slightly. She pushed the paper across the table to Bobby with her fingertip. He flipped it around so that it was facing the right direction for him to view it properly and studied the changes she'd made then looked back up at her.

"I don't understand. What's the difference?" he asked in earnest.

"This one," she said, pointing to the book, "will trap her, leaving her still very able to manipulate you. But this one?" she said tapping the symbol she'd drawn, "This one here will kill her."

"So you're saying trapping her isn't an option?" Dean asked.

"Well, it is for you and Sam," Meranda replied, "But your friend here will probably end up her as her puppet if you do...I can't protect him the same way I can protect you."

Everyone in the room except Meranda looked completely confused and, after exchanging puzzled expressions, they all turned to her for the answers. Clearing her throat and blushing faintly, she began to explain.

"From the moment I touched your skin," she looked from Dean to Sam and back again as she spoke, "you have been shielded from her. Every time we touch, the shield is reinforced – making it more difficult for her to locate you."

She paused, trying to find the courage to say the truth while wondering at the same time how vague she should be...in the end, she decided the "not at all" approach would be best.

"Dean, when you and I were...together…that first night, I marked you. The second night? The night at the bar? I shielded you both by touch, but she knew that she was in danger of losing both of you. A succubus is bad enough, but one that's pissed off? The cliché that goes 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' doesn't even touch it. She was determined to have you both that night – marked by another or not."

She watched as this sank in for them.

"Ok, so you're saying that your mark trumps hers?" Bobby asked.

Meranda took a deep breath, trying not to get frustrated, but knowing that every minute they waste is a minute they could use to prepare.

"Marking by sight is like...I don't know, calling dibs on a soul. But...," she paused trying to find the right words that would explain it in an understandable manner, "the marking I did went...a little deeper than that."

Seeing that she was skirting around getting to the nuts and bolts of it, Sam asked, "Just what exactly are we talking here?"

"I marked your souls," she said.

The silence that followed her statement was almost palpable. Everyone expected Bobby to be the one to break the silence, but it was Dean who did the honors.

"She was coming for Sammy that night?" Dean asked.

"Yeah…her plan was to use Sam to subdue you, consume his soul while you watched and then kill you out of spite for my lack of respect for the rules."

Dean's brow furrowed deeper and deeper as her list grew. "That…_bitch_!"

Bobby, unable to hold his tongue any longer, asked, "And just how do you know that was her plan?"

Meranda cut her eyes at him and, doing her best to conceal the contempt she felt, said, "When they're as old as she is and as pissed off as she was, if you were me you could have known what she had for breakfast three weeks ago. She was broadcasting it in hopes of putting fear in whoever had them. I was doing my best to shield them, but with her so close, I was afraid that it wouldn't be enough."

Sam cleared his throat before speaking, his words barely above a whisper. "So you uh...you marked _my_ soul...that night."

Meranda half-smiled at him, "Yes...it was the only way that I knew to protect you." She took his hand in hers, "I'm sorry."

"How does she know we're here if we're shielded?" Dean asked.

"Just because you're shielded doesn't mean you're invisible. She knew that you were in the general vicinity that night at the bar. For all I know if she hadn't been in such a blind rage, she might've spotted you when she walked in. I didn't wanna stick around to find out that I should've done more. At this point, I think she'd be willing to take this town apart to find you. We just got lucky that she came here after the bar."

"Yeah, that's us alright...lucky." Dean said, raising his eyebrows and barely shaking his head.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** _I will go ahead and tell you now that I suck at writing action scenes. I've reviewed this one several times and tried to make it better. It is what it is. Enjoy and review...and don't forget - I don't own these characters.

* * *

_**Chapter 18**

"I know it's not like she's got an appointment, but do we have any idea when she might show up?" Sam asked.

"Anytime after dark. She's not nocturnal, but she _is_ stronger at night," Meranda answered.

"We need to get the ball rolling then," Dean pointed out after peeking out the window.

Without second thought, Meranda took command.

"We need to get that symbol drawn under this carpet. We can remove the salt from the door to draw her in, but it's absolutely imperative that we seal the room again with salt. If she gets even a hint of what's going on, she'll be out that door in the blink of an eye. At least if we seal it, she'll be stuck in here no matter what."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" Bobby asked. "I mean, wouldn't that be like being locked in the lion's cage _with_ the lion?"

"It's better than letting her waltz out of here. Even if she kills all of us, at some point she'll end up stepping on the symbol and killing herself too," she said.

"Oh! So there _is_ a bright side," Dean said sarcastically.

Flashing him a smile and a wink, Meranda continued.

"We get her in here and if all else fails, use as many of those weapons as you can, whatever you have to, to blow her ass in the direction of that circle."

"I'll draw the symbol," Bobby said, taking initiative.

"I'll clear the salt till she's in and reseal the room," Dean said.

"Let's get you and Bobby stocked with weapons," she said to Sam. "And Dean, you make sure you're armed too. She might look all frail and dainty, but she can rip your heart out through your chest with her bare hands…and as pissed off as she is, she'd enjoy doing it."

The room came alive with motion. Bobby and Dean pulled the carpet away from the floor from the door to as close as they could get to the furniture. Sam and Meranda were moving furniture and weapons to their stations. After the symbol was drawn, checked and double checked, the carpet was replaced – the edges of the symbol marked on the floor to give them the general idea of its boundaries. The light outside the cottage was turned on in an effort to make it more difficult to see into the room where the lights were left off. The bathroom light was on with a towel over it to lessen the glow and the door left ajar giving them just enough light to see, but keeping the main room almost completely dark. The shower had been turned on, the water hot enough to create steam in the small expanse of the bathroom. The clock radio had been moved to the bathroom and music turned on to give the illusion that maybe someone was showering while listening to it. The curtain over the front window was open almost full width giving them advantage to see its approach. In no time, they were prepared for the worst and hoping for the best.

Darkness had fallen by the time they'd broken the salt at the door. They had checked everything so many times that each one of them had it all memorized. The room buzzed with the rush of their adrenaline. Just as it was about to become overwhelming, Dean broke the silence.

"Ok…ok…I can't take this anymore! What now?"

The sound of his voice in the all-too-quiet room relieved at least a little of the tension. All eyes turned to Meranda who stood just on the far side of the circle. Without a word, she took in a deep breath and stiffening her back, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back and held her hands, palms up, at her sides. She stretched her hands stiffly open then slowly closed them as she continued to breathe deeply until she suddenly stopped breathing completely. Her eyes moved under her eyelids as though she were watching movement behind them. When her eyes opened, they wore concern and she began breathing again.

"She's coming," she said to the room. "Open the door."

"Open the door? Lady, are you outta your fucking mind?" Bobby protested.

"Trust me!" she demanded.

The words were barely spoken before Sam reached out from his position behind the door and opened it. Everyone in the room froze at the ready, shallowly breathing, watching and listening intently for movement. Dean was crouched below the window, ready for Sam to slam the door shut behind her after he salted the threshold. Bobby knelt between the beds, using Dean's to steady his barrel arm and Sam's to hold more weapons. Meranda reached out with her mind again.

When she opened her eyes this time, Soraya was standing just outside the front patio light's radius. She was looking in toward the bathroom light, listening and watching for movement. Cautiously, she followed the edge of the light, staying just outside of the circle, still watching, still listening. Heart's "Barracuda" was streaming out of the bathroom along with a steady flow of steam.

With a speed that almost took their breath, she was through the pool of light on the stoop and inside the door hovering on the edge of the circle that would send her to hell. As soon as it registered for him that she was in the door, Dean leapt forward and salted the threshold.

"Now!" he yelled to Sam who slammed the door shut without hesitation.

The scream that Soraya released permeated the room. It was filled with surprise, anger and frustration. She instantly turned toward the door when Sam fired the first shot. The blast hit her dead center and she stumbled back slightly, but not enough – her foot was teetering on the edge. He fired again and she stumbled toward the bed, away from the circumference. Bobby's vantage point made it impossible for him to get a shot at the angle needed to push her in the right direction and Dean's gun was enough to protect him, but not to maneuver her with its fire power. Jumping into action, he decided to get on the other side of the bed and get the angle he needed.

Half-way across the bed, Soraya caught his arm in her grip and pulled him to her. Bobby instantly dropped his weapon and was face to face with her. His thoughts of everything else melted away and the only thing he could focus on was how incredibly beautiful this creature was and how he so wished he could drown in her eyes. She grasped his shirt, pulling him to her and began whispering to him, her face against his ear. His eyes were distant and eerily blank.

Dean took the opportunity to slide in and grab the rifle. By the time she felt the movement, she looked down and Dean was staring up at her, the barrel of the gun just inches away from her midsection.

"Hi there," he said with a smile, before pulling the trigger.

Soraya flew back off the bed, pulling Bobby with her. She landed inside the circle with a loud thud, Bobby still in her grasp hanging half-way off the bed. Light came from the symbol below her and she began screaming again – this time in pain, her skin an electric flash of blue sparks. This seemed to go on forever without end.

"Something's wrong," Sam shouted over her screams.

"She's anchored herself with him!" Meranda shouted back.

"We've gotta do something!" Dean yelled.

"Grab his legs and pull! And don't stop!" Meranda directed.

Sam and Dean grabbed his legs and began pulling, but to no avail. They continued pulling and pleading with Bobby to help them. Meranda steadied herself, took a deep breath and held her hand palm out toward Soraya's shrieking form.

"_Oportet discedere! Redire ad inferos! Diábolus et animum devorabit vos enim depasti estis illorum innocentium!_" Meranda commanded forcefully.

The longer she spoke, the harder the boys pulled until finally they felt progress. As soon as Bobby was free of her grasp, Soraya's body fell to ash and her black soul descended into hell. Immediately, the room was dark and quiet again.

Sam turned on the lights in the bedroom. The trio looked at Bobby's limp and lifeless body lying face down on the bed.

"Bobby?" Dean shook him lightly...nothing... "Bobby?" He shook him a little harder.

Meranda moved in and began feeling for a pulse.

Bobby's body began to heave and a strange wail came from his throat. It wasn't until he lifted himself with his arms that they realized he was sobbing. He moved to a seated position, his body still convulsing with his cries. His eyes were crazed and angry. Dean noticed the knife in his hand just before he swung his arm and sank the blade in Meranda's side. Dean's eyes flew wide as the blood on her t-shirt began to spread around the blade.

"Bobby! NO! What did you do?" Dean screamed at him. Instinctively, Dean's fist came down on Bobby's jaw with such a force that it rendered him unconscious instantly.

Meranda looked down at the knife, confused.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note:**_ Just in case anyone forgot, I don't own these characters. I actually split a very long chapter in two so that I could post this. The next chapter is still in the works, but since it looked like I was just going to keep going, I thought I'd break it down a little. Enjoy...and please review! :)  


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_**Chapter 19**

Sam had watched in disbelief as Bobby had stabbed Meranda. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, but he was powerless to move…unable to change it. He looked at Dean whose face became filled with rage just before he struck Bobby. The sound of his fist making connection with Bobby's jaw brought Sam out of the shock he was in and he rushed into the bathroom and grabbed towels. He hurried back with them as Dean was laying her down, the knife, sunk almost to the hilt, still protruding from her side - the blade left in place in hopes of minimizing the bleeding. His brow was furrowed with fear, concern and anger. His breathing was heavy and ragged.

"Mother_fucker_!" Dean put his hands on his head and screamed through clenched teeth.

Although Sam's eyes were still wide, he moved deliberately and with purpose. He placed two towels on either side of the blade and gently applied pressure. Meranda put her hand on his, looked into his eyes and softly smiled.

"I need the phone," she said calmly.

Sam brought the phone and handed her the receiver. She dialed and placed it to her ear. She laid very still taking short, shallow breaths waiting for someone on the other end to answer. While she waited, Dean stood, arms crossed tightly, rocking gently back and forth, doing his best not to pace. She reached out her hand to him. When he saw the blood on it he felt as though a pair of hands had appeared in his belly and was wringing his intestines out. He quickly took her hand in his and, instantly, the anxiety all but left his system. It had been welling up inside and threatening to devour him and with just the touch of her hand it was as if the three-alarm fire had been reduced to a candle's flame. She looked into his eyes and smiled weakly. When she spoke, that candle's flame flickered down to a cinder.

"Hey, Jackie…yeah…yeah, listen…um…I really need you to come over to the E&L...like now…and bring your big kit, okay? Yeah…just…just hurry, okay?" Meranda hung up the phone and Sam put it back on the bedside table.

The brothers sat gently on the bed, on either side of her, each with one of her hands in theirs. When she closed her eyes, the flame of anxiety began to rise in Dean's core again.

"Hey! Hey!" Dean spoke loudly while touching her face.

She opened her eyes again and smiled at him.

"I'll be okay. Jackie's coming. She'll stitch this right up," Meranda said softly. Her eyes wanted to go to the wound, but her stomach just wouldn't let them get past the sight of the hilt of the knife.

Sam had been speechless since the incident, but his mind had been racing despite his demeanor. He took a deep breath before saying what had been plaguing his thoughts the last few moments.

"Take our energy," Sam said, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Dean and Meranda both looked at him, not sure what he was trying to say.

"Take our energy – mine and Dean's," Sam said looking from Dean to Meranda.

Dean's eyes widened with hope as well. The brothers looked to her with great anticipation. She was thoughtful on the subject and seemed to weigh several factors before answering rather vaguely.

"If I need to…I will," she smiled.

They sat with her for a few minutes before realizing that they needed to take the time to turn off the shower and radio. But it didn't take long before the silence was too much and Sam turned it back on. It also didn't take long for them to decide that it would be best to subdue Bobby while he was still unconscious. They placed him in a chair at the table, secured him to it with duct tape, his head resting on the table. He looked like he'd been sitting at the table and decided to take a nap.

With that taken care of, they returned to Meranda's side and kept her comfortable until there was a light knock at the door. Sam got up and answered the door. If they had to guess, they'd say at least twenty minutes had passed, although it felt more like twenty hours.

When Sam opened the door, a short, round, much older woman stood on the other side. She had graying red hair that she wore in a loose bun. Her face was just as loose, with deep lines running through it. She held two bags - a large black leather one and another smaller brown one. He offered to help with the bags and the woman obliged his request.

"I'm Jackie," the old woman said handing him the bags. "I'm a doctor…well, used to be," she added with a smile.

"I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean and the uh…the sleeping fellow there is Bobby."

As he made the introductions, Jackie kept making her way to Meranda's side. She gave a cursory glance at the charred floor and seemed to ignore the smells that had resulted from it. When she got to her patient, she gently pulled the towels off and looked at the wound.

"Well, look what you've gone and done Miss Missy," the doctor gently chided her.

Motioning for her bags, Sam brought them to her. She placed them both on Sam's bed and opened them. From the large bag, she removed a long, thin adjustable halogen lamp that she set up on the bedside table. As she began bringing other things from the bag – assorted tools, bottles, needles, bandages and tape – she also began asking the boys to gather things like clean towels and sheets, water, more light. Meranda watched all of the commotion without a word, Bryan Adams crooning out "When You Love Someone" lulling her in and out of sleep from the radio in the bathroom.

Once everything was set up, the elfish woman removed a very large hypodermic needle from its plastic wrap and began filling it with a clear liquid from one of the many small bottles. After tapping the side of it with her finger a few times and pressing the air from the liquid, she turned to the boys.

"I need one of you on each side of her, holding her down. This isn't going to be pleasant so if either of you have a weak stomach, I need to know now," she said.

Normally, it would've taken all they could do not to laugh at the thought of not being able to deal with something of this nature, but neither of them had ever reacted the way they did this time. The only time they'd even come close was when they'd watched each other end up dangerously hurt.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and nodded to each other, a silent conversation that said everything. Without a word, they moved into position – Sam on the same side as Jackie and Dean on the other. They took Meranda's hands and used their free hands to hold her down at the shoulders. She turned her head toward Dean who leaned down and put his forehead against hers.

"Send me the pain," he whispered to her.

Meranda looked confused. "What?"

"If you can send energy, who knows? Maybe you can send the pain. Try to send it to me...at least some of it so you don't have to bear it all," he pleaded. Part of him wished that Bobby was within arm's length so that she could send all of the pain to him..._the bastard_!

She paused before nodding gently...then she closed her eyes and clenched her teeth.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note:** _I do not own these characters. I wasn't going to post this chapter today, but because I may not be able to update this weekend, I thought maybe I should go ahead and get it out of the way. Enjoy and please review so I know how you like it so far...good, bad or indifferent...all reviews are welcome!  


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_**Chapter 20**

When the doctor stuck the needle into the wound, Dean gasped and Meranda cried out, both of them in pain. Their breathing came in simultaneous uneven gusts. Thankfully the medication began numbing the area almost immediately and the rest of the procedure was virtually painless. Dean and Meranda's foreheads never parted and although their eyes remained closed, they were completely alert and focused on each other, using the sounds and feel of the other to distract from the horror taking place outside their closed eyelids. Sam assisted when asked, handing Jackie whatever supplies she asked for while never letting go of Meranda's hand.

When she was finally done, Jackie began collecting the instruments and taking them into the bathroom for cleaning. On her third trip through doing clean up, she felt Meranda's face with the back of her hand, breaking the bond that she and Dean had been sharing since the beginning of the procedure. Meranda looked up at her and smiled.

Jackie took her hands from the boys' and put them in hers. "Take it," she said in a whisper, smiling back at her. "You need it now more than ever."

Sam and Dean watched this with mirrored expressions of perplexity. They looked at each other, but when they saw their own countenance staring back, they resumed watching the two women.

Both women closed their eyes and released deep sighs. From Sam and Dean's view, they appeared to be two women who were holding hands, possibly praying. When they opened their eyes, Jackie appeared to be a little on the exhausted side and Meranda's color had improved even if just minutely. Dean wondered if the doctor had looked like that before she'd offered her own energy. But more than that, he wondered how she _knew_ to make the offer. It seemed that his list of questions for Meranda grew by the moment.

Turning to the boys she asked, "Could I get some help getting my things out to my car?"

"Sure," Sam said, jumping into action.

"I need you _both_ to help," she said looking at Dean. Curiosity visibly ran across his face as he stood and began making his way toward her bags. He knew that Sam could have easily carried them out for her the same way he'd carried them in, but it was obvious that she wanted to speak to them in private.

Jackie brought Meranda's hands to her lips and kissed them gently. "You rest little lady. You're going to be fine, but you need to take it easy for a little while, okay?"

Meranda simply smiled and nodded. Jackie let go of her hands and turned to leave.

"Hey, Jack?" Meranda called to her.

Jackie stopped and turned back.

"I can't thank you enough," Meranda said.

"Oh, you know we'll never be even...you're always going to be ahead," Jackie said with a smile. "Now get some rest."

With that, Jackie turned and walked outside. The brothers had been loitering by the door waiting and followed her.

Walking to her car, she said, "You can just put those in the back seat...thank you so much for your help."

When they shut her car doors, and turned to go back inside, they noticed that she was standing silent with her arms crossed over the expanse of her large bosom, staring up at them. She took in a deep breath before she finally spoke.

"I don't know how you boys know her, but judging from that room, you know what she is so I'll not mince words – are you here to hurt her or protect her?" she asked bluntly.

They had been listening intently and were taken aback by this question. They looked first at each other then back at her. Dean was the first to speak.

"Yeah, we know what she is...and we're not here to hurt her," the confusion still obvious on his face. "If you don't mind my asking, um...how exactly do _you_ know what she is?"

Jackie smiled and laughed under her breath.

"I met Meranda many, many years ago when I was a young doctor," she said with a distant look in her eyes. "She would come every day to the hospital I where I interned and spend time with the patients – generally the children and always the terminally ill. I began to notice that many of the ones she chose to spend time with seemed to respond better to treatment. Some of them even got well. It was nothing short of a miracle. I watched her for years until I felt confident enough to approach her about it. I might never have said anything, but my husband had gotten sick and his health was rapidly declining. I guess I approached her out of selfish reasons..." she paused as if contemplating this thought before continuing.

"She was reluctant to tell me at first but when I told her what I knew she seemed almost relieved to tell _someone_. She's been alone for a long time, you know? Her mother was her only constant for most of her life, but she lost her a few hundred years ago. That's a long time to be alone. Anyway, my husband Richard had gotten ill and by the time they figured out what it was, his health had seriously declined. Honestly, I didn't think he'd have the strength to make it, despite the fact that he was barely 30 years old…so I went to Meranda," she nodded her head toward the building as she said her name.

"So she cured your husband," Sam asked.

"She did. She gave me something that no one other than God could've given me – another 38 years with him which also allowed us to have our children and now our grandchildren. So, you see, I'm quite in her debt and I don't believe I'd be able to standby and see her get hurt...not without feeling an overwhelming need to hurt back…if you boys understand."

They looked at each other and back at her. Part of them wanted to laugh at this small elderly woman insinuating threat of bodily harm, but that part was kept silent by the sincerity in her tone. From her pocket she pulled a business card and two prescriptions. She continued to look at them with skepticism before giving them the pieces of paper along with her orders.

"These are the numbers you'll need to reach me. If she doesn't get better or you think she's getting worse, you contact me immediately. And this is a prescription for antibiotics and this one is for pain. You need to take them into town and have them filled first thing tomorrow morning. I've given her shots of the same medications so she's got a good head start."

Sam began clearing his throat and Dean was stumbling to get the words, "Yes ma'am" from his tangled tongue.

She paused, the uneasiness hanging heavily on her face.

"You _will_ stay here until tomorrow morning when you will take her back to her home. There, you need to stay with her for at least a week – that's seven days, _not_ five. Do you understand me? I don't know what happened in there, but you don't have to be Einstein to know that she's in this because of you two," she said sternly.

Dean's eyes narrowed as he stared into her eyes intently before responding rather icily, "I can promise you she'll be cared for. If she sneezes funny, believe this – you'll be hunted down."

Seeing that his brother had taken offense, whether at the idea that they would do anything less than what was good for Meranda and her wellbeing or that they were somehow to blame, Sam tried his best to smooth things before they got out of hand.

"What he means is that we're all kinda in this together...if we have any questions or concerns, you'll be the first to know."

She cut her eyes at Sam who flashed a faint smile with all hopes of calming the anger he'd seen rising in her as Dean had spoke.

Unfolding her arms, she began walking to the driver's side of the car.

"And if that guy in there is dead, you might want to take care of that too. There's a lake just a few miles down this road," she said pointing the direction they should take.

Exchanging shocked glances, they spoke simultaneously, "Bobby!"

They didn't wait for her to finish and gave her no details as to whether he was still among the living or not. Instead, they rushed back into the room, Sam yelling a compulsory "thank you" over his shoulder.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's note: **_Today's chapter brought to you by three cups of coffee before 6 a.m. *LOL* Characters? I don't own them...still. Enjoy and review...please. :)

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_**Chapter 21**

Dean was mentally kicking himself for leaving Meranda alone with Bobby – restrained or not. The boys had already assumed that whatever Soraya had whispered to him, coupled with the fact that she had actually touched him, had caused him to react the way he did. But they had no way of knowing how long he'd be affected by it. Meranda might be able to shed some light on it for them, but they'd not spoken of him since the incident. They knew she needed all the strength she could get and adding more stress wouldn't help the situation.

When they burst into the room, they were almost sickened by the heavy smells of sulfur and blood that had saturated the room. Leaving the door open, they began opening the windows to air it out. All but forgetting about Bobby again, Sam gathered all of the bloody linens and took them into the office. Dropping them into the hamper by the clean linens, he grabbed another large stack of fresh towels and linens and took them back to the room.

Dean had gone straight to Meranda's side and although she appeared to be sleeping, he knelt beside the bed and took her hand. He slowly drank in every detail of her face, looking for any signs of improvement and was pleased to see that her color had improved even since Jackie left. When Sam came back in, Dean took in a deep breath and stood. He bent and pressed his warm lips lightly against her cool forehead, then gently, but reluctantly released her hand, laying it back at her side.

When he turned his attention to the room, Sam was standing just outside the bathroom door staring toward the table. Dean followed Sam's gaze to a conscious Bobby who was quietly looking at them. His eyes drifted to Meranda and Sam and Dean both tensed, ready to do whatever was necessary to keep him from her. Bobby's facial expression remained eerily blank and, other than his eyes, he remained perfectly still.

Dean turned and walked outside the room, just to the edge of the pool of light cast by the overhead light. He looked in at Sam who had watched him and motioned for him to come outside with him. Sam started that way, but kept his eye on Bobby, looking back at him the entire way. When he stepped into the pool of light, he turned back toward the room and he and Dean stood in silence watching Bobby. Finally, Dean spoke.

"What are we gonna do with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean 'what do I mean'? Look at him, Sammy! This Silent Bob thing he's got going on is more than a little creepy don't you think?"

"Well, what do you suggest we do with him, Dean?"

Dean released a deep breath that conveyed the extent of his exasperation.

"When Meranda wakes up, we'll have to get some info on how long this thing with him is going to last. I know this is gonna sound bad, but we need to send him packing. I don't want him anywhere near her."

"I don't either, but we can't just cut him loose, Dean. What would stop him from just tracking us to her house?"

The expression on Bobby's face when he stabbed her was burned into Dean's memory and by the hatred he saw in his eyes he knew that he not only wanted to see her hurt, he wanted to do the hurting. That was one of Bobby's talents – torture. He knew that what Sam was saying was true. The images that ran through his mind were almost too much to bear and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as if he could erase them.

"I guess we play it by ear then…but we still need to decide how to handle a few other items," Dean conceded.

"Like the motel and the owner?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…burn it?" Dean asked as casually as he'd ask if you'd like sugar with your coffee.

Sam tilts his head in a half-nod of agreement. "There's a shed behind the pool. I saw a gas can for the lawn equipment in there."

"You been scoping the place?" Dean asked, feigning surprise.

"Well, you know…I might've peeked in the windows to see if there might be something we could use," Sam said with a sly smirk. Suddenly remembering their earlier confrontation, Sam's smile widened. "And what was with you earlier? You were gonna throw down in the parking lot with granny?" Sam said laughing.

Dean's eyes narrowed and his mouth pursed. "Dude, that didn't pissed you off? This isn't our fault!"

"_Dean_, she was like 100 years old!"

"She threatened first," Dean said, sounding much like a child attempting to defend his actions.

Sam just laughed at him. He looked back into the room at Bobby who had turned his attention to them. He looked slightly confused.

"So we gonna sleep in shifts? Keep an eye on him?" Sam asked.

Dean watched Bobby mindfully, turning over several ideas before realizing there might be something they could do that would help on all fronts. Without taking his eyes from Bobby, he started speaking.

"So, what if there was a way that Bobby could help Meranda?" He paused for just a moment before adding, "And in that same way, she could help us…and him?"

Sam's face displayed the confusion he felt. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Dean had already been turning this in his mind, searching for the right angle of approach. He wasn't sure if he'd found it, but continued hoping that he'd chosen wisely.

"Bobby's not himself, right?"

"Yeah?"

"That means he can't possibly be enjoying what's going on with him…right?"

"Ok? But I'm still not seeing your point, Dean."

"Stay with me here…Meranda needs energy to get better…"

"Wait, are you suggesting that we let her take his energy?"

"Why not? If she takes enough that he goes back to sleep like she did before, he's out of his misery at least for a little while, she uses it to heal and we don't have to worry about him plotting to hurt her again until he wakes up. And who knows? Maybe when he wakes up it'll be over."

Sam took some time to think it over. Normally, he'd never agree to something like this – the idea of a creature so dangerous as a succubus near someone he cared about? In Dean's words, "No, no and HELL NO." But he had to face the facts that this situation wasn't following the rules on any levels so far. There was a tiny voice, one that amazingly enough sounded a lot like Bobby, that wanted to whisper to him that maybe any inkling he had to entertain Dean's suggestion was just part of Meranda's magic…maybe even something designed to help her feed. But he felt in his heart that he knew better. The hunter in him knew what Dean was saying was right – no matter what moral argument was thrown at it. She wasn't the same as the things they hunted…and that made everything else different.

"You know I'd never agree to this otherwise, right?" Sam finally asked him.

"You think I _would_?" Dean shot back.

They stood staring at Bobby, mentally mapping out the best way to proceed. Bobby sat silently staring back.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note:** _Still don't own them...damn it! Enjoy...and please review. :)

* * *

_**Chapter 22**

Once they'd decided on the best way to proceed, they put their plan into motion. Dean went into the office and broke into the house. Doing his best to use the security lights that were beaming through the windows, he made his way through the dining room and into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator. Making use of its light, he located some plastic grocery bags and gathered a few supplies – soda, grape and apple juice, ice, glasses, a handful of straws, a couple of bags of chips, some candy bars, and a box of granola bars (Sam liked to do the health snack crap when he could). He also made a mental note to make sure they did this again before torching the place. There were a lot of nonperishable items that they could use and the owner, or what was left of her on the floor in the dining room, wasn't going to miss them.

He took the supplies back to the room. Sam was sitting on the bed next to Meranda, holding her hand and absently running his fingers gently over it while having what appeared to be a staring contest with Bobby.

"Dude…stop that! You're creeping me out! One of you doing it is bad enough!" Dean protested.

Sam looked at him with one eyebrow raised as if to ask, "Seriously?" Seeing that Dean was loaded down, he rose from his position and helped him carry everything in. They unload the stash onto the dresser and, after pouring some of the grape juice over ice Dean grabbed a straw and an empty chair from the table and carried it to Meranda's side.

Instead of sitting in the chair, he knelt beside it and using it as table, he dropped the straw into the glass and placed it on the chair. He took her left hand in his and placed his right on her head, stroking her forehead gently with his thumb. She fought to open her eyes and looked at him dreamily. It was obvious that the pain medication was a great sedative and Dean almost regretted not having Jackie hit Bobby up with a dose of it before she left. He smiled tenderly at her and she sleepily responded in kind.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he said just above a whisper. "You thirsty?"

She nodded slightly. Dean brought the glass from the chair and momentarily thanked God for old people because if the owner had been in her 30's instead of in her 60's or 70's, he probably wouldn't have had the simple luxury that the straw offered their situation. He couldn't imagine how painful it might have been for her if they'd had to move her into a position to drink without the aid of it. As it was, she was straining to lift her head. Sam, who had been standing on the other side of the bed, sat gingerly beside her and took her hand in his, then slid his other arm under her head and raised it gently.

She drank deeply, her eyes closed, her face openly revealing the satisfaction the cold drink was providing. When she stopped, the glass was almost empty and she took a deep breath, smiled and a sound of contentment escaped her throat.

Dean was placing the glass back on the chair when he realized that he was also going to have to sell Meranda on the idea of taking the energy from Bobby. Maybe she wouldn't want it. What if she didn't have enough energy herself to take it from him? What if it was contaminated somehow because of that Soraya bitch? These questions and more ran through his mind in the small expanse of time it took him to place her glass on the chair and turn back to her.

He brought her hand to his warm, soft lips and kissed it. "I want you to listen to me, okay?"

As she nodded her head, her eyelids seemed to stay in place, causing her eyes to slowly close and open as she moved her head up and down. He wanted to take his time and make sure that she understood what he was saying and if her response time was any indication that might be the only way that his words could get through her fogged mind.

"Bobby's awake, but he's not himself yet," Dean said as if speaking to a child. He watched her eyes and it was easy to see when she understood what he was saying. When the understanding was there, he continued. "Do you know how long he'll be like this?"

She was quiet while she was sorting out exactly what the question meant and when she had an answer she tried to clear her throat. Wincing in pain, her breathing became rapid, her muscles tensing, immediately she squeezed their hands in pain. Dean clenched his teeth and put her hand to his pinched lips.

"Send it to me," he whispered to her for the second time that night.

She shook her head in small, rapid movements, refusing. She took in a slow deep breath before answering.

"She's gone…shouldn't be long," she managed.

Looking hopeful, Dean continued, "Could you take his energy again and just put him to sleep like before?"

She thought his words over carefully and suddenly her face looked like she'd tasted something horrible. When she spoke again, her words were slightly slurred. "No, no…you...you can't do that."

Not sure if she understood, Dean responded, "No, not me, Meranda…_you_. Could _you_ take his energy?"

She attempted to open her eyes wide, but they fell to half-mast immediately. The words he'd just spoken bounced around in her head as she chased them, trying her best to grasp them somehow. She yawned widely before answering again.

"That's what I said, I can't take it…she marked him and used him…that, that _bitch_…Hey! Did you see what she did to me?" she asked in slurred frustration that slid into anger, pointing at nothing in particular with her index fingers.

Dean and Sam tightened their lips trying their best to keep from smiling, knowing that if they did, laughter wouldn't be far behind. Dean wondered briefly if they'd have been so quick to laugh if she hadn't told them Bobby would be better soon, but quickly realized that it didn't matter. Dean offered her more juice and she drank the rest of it, the slurping sounds of the straw filling the room.

Sam lowered her back down and kissed her forehead before sliding his arm from under her. He then bent and brought her hand to his warm, soft mouth where kissed it before laying it by her side again. Dean, still kneeling brought her hand to his lips and kissed it three quick times before doing the same.

They walked to the end of the bed and both stood looking at Bobby.

"Well…" Dean said letting out a sigh, "looks like we're gonna be taking turns. You want the first shift or the second?"

"I guess I'll take the second," Sam said.

"Works for me," Dean agreed, looking at his watch. "It's still early yet though."

He held his watch where Sam could see it.

"Damn, are you serious?" Sam said surprised. "It's not even 11:00?"

Dean just nodded, raising his eyebrows.

They both approached the loot they'd unpacked on the dresser. Sam began making himself a drink while Dean opened one of the bags of chips.

"Pour me one?" Dean asked.

Without discussion, Sam made his brother a glass of soda on ice and handed it to him, taking a handful of chips out of the bag before drawing his hand back. They both went to their respective beds and sat with their backs against the headboards. Dean was careful not to disturb Meranda and she gave no indication that she'd even noticed him joining her.

As they sat eating chips and drinking soda, they thought over the day's events and how much had taken place. Their minds began to wander the way they sometimes do and finally Sam spoke.

"What if there are more out there?"

"More what?"

"More like Meranda...more things that are going against their nature and using their abilities to help others."

Dean sat silently turning this idea in his mind. It had potential.

"Think about it Dean – we're always looking for the worst…the bad things. We'd have never run across the work she was doing at that hospital."

"Well, you think the fact that we were like _non-existent_ at the time it happened might have helped that some?"

"You know what I mean! If we'd been doing the research that Bobby did and we saw something about _one_ 'non-malevolent' succubus that would've been our cue to turn the page because that's not what we're after."

"Yeah? What's your point? Why would we hunt something that's not doing harm?"

Sam sighed deeply, "_That's_ my point! What if there are others out there...others that could help _us_."

"Well let's face it Sammy, that kinda thing doesn't exactly make the CNN crawl, now does it?" Dean replied.

Sam thought this over before responding. "No...I guess they don't."

They sat in companionable silence, eating chips and drinking their sodas. Dean turned on the television and after flipping through several channels settles on a "1,000 Ways to Die" marathon on Spike TV. Sam takes this as his cue to try to get some sleep. He enjoys the show as much as Dean does and he knows if he starts watching it, they'll both end up taking the first shift.

Checking Bobby's restraints before bedding down, Sam checks all the windows and the door as well. He crawls into bed and falls asleep to the sounds of the announcer of the show saying something about a woman dying because she mistook her new pink stun gun for her vibrator.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note:** _In case you're wondering, I still don't own these characters...Enjoy and review! :)

* * *

_**Chapter 23**

At 3:30 a.m., Dean woke Sam to take his shift and filled him in on what had happened in the last four and a half hours – absolutely jack nothing! The most exciting event was Bobby putting his head down on the table sometime after midnight...his snoring started about ten minutes afterward.

Meranda hadn't moved. In fact, Dean watched her chest for the rhythmic rise and fall to make sure she was breathing on more than one occasion because she'd been so still.

Sam rose, yawned and stretched before going to relieve himself. When he came back into the room, Dean had moved over to Sam's bed and was already sleeping soundly. The way he could just go to sleep almost on command never ceased to amaze Sam. Of course, with absolutely nothing happening for the last four and a half hours, he could see how it might be fairly easily done in this case.

Sam pours himself a glass of juice and settles in beside Meranda. Without thought, his hand automatically finds her shoulder and rests there, his thumb slowly and gently brushing back and forth. He's happy to see that the "1,000 Ways to Die" marathon is still underway...at least he could enjoy the time he had to kill.

Just as Dean's shift had been uneventful, so was Sam's right up until about fifteen minutes before it was due to end. Sam hadn't noticed when he'd sat up at the table and had continued watching television so when he heard Bobby speak it startled him.

"You gonna let me go take a leak or am I expected to sit here and piss my pants?" Bobby asked.

Without answering him, Sam went to Dean and shook him awake. When Dean looked up at him, he silently pointed to Bobby. Dean shifted his gaze to where he sat at the table, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his hand as he did so. He was glad to see the distant look was gone from Bobby's eyes. It had been replaced with a new one – a combination of anger and humiliation.

"Will one of you assholes answer me?" Bobby pleaded.

Dean looked a little confused and Bobby realized that he hadn't heard the original question so he repeated his request.

"Can I go take a leak or do you expect me to do it where I sit?"

As it sank in that Bobby was actually articulating the request, his vocabulary no longer limited to just a collection guttural sounds, Dean got up and stared at him a moment before answering.

"Well now that's gonna depend on you, now isn't it?" Dean said looking at him coldly.

"What the hell's _that_ supposed to mean?" Bobby asked in earnest.

Without taking his eyes off Bobby, Dean started toward the door. "Sammy, a little pow-wow outside, please."

He stepped just outside into the cool morning air and suddenly realized that he needed to relieve himself too. He stepped to the side of the building and did what guys do – whipped it out and started going. Instantly he thought to himself, "_It's great when the whole world is potentially your toilet!_" Sam walked out and when he saw Dean, he half rolled his eyes, let out a sigh and turned his attention back into the room.

"A little warning would've been nice," Sam said.

Ignoring his brother, Dean began speaking.

"We've got to get him out of here...like now."

"What do you suggest?"

"Well, first, he ain't going nowhere until he agrees to be restrained again. He can sit right there and get pissed off _and _pissed on for all I care. We need to take her home and then come back here and deal with the rest of this. I wanna know that she's safe and he's gone. _Capiche_?"

Fighting back the urge to quote lines from "The Godfather", Sam just nodded and said, "Ok...and how do we do that?"

Dean zipped his pants and stepped up to the front of the building to join Sam before continuing.

"I went over and over this last night. The only thing I got that might work is that we leave Bobby here and both take her to her house – you follow in her car so that we have one less thing to take care of. We'll leave her car there at her house, then both of us come back here, loot the house, torch it _and_ our room...maybe a few of the other ones too if there's time and then follow Bobby out of town before we go back to her place."

"You forgot something," Sam said.

Dean's eyes looked up as if he would find the answer hovering just in front of him. When he failed to see it, he looked at Sam, shook his head and half shrugged. "I dunno...what?"

"We've gotta get those prescriptions filled...unless you just _wanna_ scrap with the old lady. I'm okay with that too, but you gotta give me a little warning so I can record it for youtube."

Dean didn't need to know what youtube was to know that his brother was yanking his chain. The smug smirk on Sam's face told him as much.

Dean's eyes narrowed, "Bitch..."

Still smirking, Sam replied, "Jerk!"

They stood in silence for a moment rethinking their situation. When they noticed Bobby squirming uncomfortably, Sam finally spoke.

"We'll leave her car here and I'll use it to go to the pharmacy while you escort Bobby out of town...sound like a plan?"

Without a word, Dean walked back into the room – his silent agreement to Sam's adjusted course of action. When he spoke again, he spoke directly to Bobby.

"The only way you're getting outta that chair is if you agree to get back in it when you're done."

"What? Why in the hell would I do _that_?" Bobby asked.

"Because you don't wanna ride the 500 plus miles home smelling like pee?" Sam offered with a smile.

Bobby thought about it for just a moment longer, the urgency of his need apparent on his face…an urgency that was increasing exponentially by the moment.

"Fine!" he shouted. "Just cut me loose before my eyeballs float outta my head!"

Without masking any of the suspicion he felt, Dean openly spoke to Sam.

"You armed Sammy?"

"You know I am," Sam said as he made sure he was not only armed, but prepared to use the weapons.

"Get between them and stay there. If he so much as sneers in her direction, I want you to take him down, you understand?" Dean said as he began cutting the tape connecting him to the chair, his eyes fixed on Bobby's.

"Got it," Sam replied without hesitation or question as he moved to stand between the beds.

"Oh you two have _got_ to be shittin' me!" Bobby said in protest of their exchange.

"Oh, ho,ho…I shit you not," Dean retorted with a slight chuckle, batting his eyes. "We're not taking any chances where you're concerned...and if you were in our position, you'd do the same." Dean continued cutting until he was free.

Bobby had several snide remarks come to mind in rapid succession that he'd have dearly loved to use, but he had no doubt that these boys were serious. The words probably would've just had time to leave his mouth and reach their ears before he'd have been condemned to wet his pants taped to a chair in this shithole dive of a motel. Instead, he stood and stiffly hobbled his way into the bathroom and shut the door.

Dean pulled the used tape from the chair. He then brought the roll of fresh tape out and stood waiting for him to finish. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He turned and started for the door, holding his hand up to Sam letting him know to stay put. He walked around the building to the bathroom window where Bobby was testing the limits of both the window and his burly physique. The top portion of his body was sticking out of the window up to his chest where it could be said that either the window was more than a bit too small or he was just too big. It was obvious that he wasn't going to be making his great escape by taking this route.

Dean crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Really?" he asked incredulously.

"Can't blame me for tryin'…I don't wanna be taped to that chair again. I'll already be lucky if I'm walkin' straight a week from now!"

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned and headed back to the front of the small building. When he walked back in, Sam was still in position and looked at Dean with complete bewilderment.

Dean silently pointed to the bathroom as he approached its door which prompted Sam to give him a silent gesture that asked, "What?" To which Dean again pointed to the bathroom and nodded his head, eyes closed. Sam followed him and when Dean pushed the door open, Sam saw Bobby, still stuck in the window, and had to clap his hand over his own mouth to contain the laughter that bubbled up inside him.

"Little bit of help here?" Bobby's muffled voice came from the other side of the window.

Dean entertained the idea of leaving him there while they moved Meranda to her house, but was too afraid that Bobby might get loose while they were gone and they'd have no idea if he left town or not. Grudgingly, he laid the tape on the sink's edge and began pulling Bobby by the legs for the second time in less than 24 hours.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: **_I don't own these characters. Part of me feels like this is moving too slow, but this just seems to be the way it wants to progress. I've tried to rush it and it just won't cooperate. Enjoy and review.

* * *

_**Chapter 24**

During the commotion of freeing Bobby from the window, Meranda woke, unnoticed. From the bed she could see Sam's back. He was standing at the bathroom door and quietly laughing while giving direction to someone she couldn't see. She heard Dean's voice from the bathroom and from his tone it was obvious that he was frustrated about something. The word he used, "douche-nugget", didn't exactly strike her as a term of endearment – with or without the attitude.

She lay there listening for a few minutes and realized that she heard another voice coming from the tiny bathroom. Her eyes flew to the table that sat empty in the corner. She quickly looked back to Sam and the direction of the bathroom. Listening more intently, she heard Bobby clearly grumbling...something about almost ripping his nipples off. If she hadn't been so overcome with relief, she might have found humor in his statement.

To be completely sure, she closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, searching for any trace of Soraya left in Bobby. Her lips slowly curled into a smile and she sighed in satisfaction.

Whatever they were doing sounded like it was finally coming to an end, but it sounded as if a new argument was beginning. Bobby was saying that they didn't need to do something and Dean was adamant about not giving a rat's ass what Bobby felt was the right thing to do.

Sam looked a little bored with the whole thing and let his eyes wander over to check on Meranda. Seeing her awake, his eyes opened wide and without looking away from her he called to Dean who kept arguing with Bobby.

"Dean!" Sam repeated more forcefully.

"What?" Dean responded, his exacerbation obvious.

When Sam didn't answer him, he turned and saw that he was looking toward Meranda. Dean took a step backward and into the room.

"Watch him," Dean said to Sam without taking his eyes from her.

Dean stepped up onto Sam's bed and walked across it to her. He knelt between the beds and took her hand in his, smiling.

"Hi," he said softly. His eyes darting around her face, he was pleased to see that her color was good and her eyes were bright.

"Hi," she replied, returning his smile.

"You want some juice?"

"Not just yet...I do need to get into that bathroom though if you're done doing whatever it is you were doing to Bobby's nipples," she said trying keep her smile from turning into laughter, which she knew was going to be painful.

"Oh, you heard that...well…in my defense, he did that to his own nipples. He shouldn't have been trying to climb out through a window that small."

"Why would he try to climb out the bathroom window?" she asked, confused.

"To keep from being taped to the chair again," he said with a tone that suggested he was surprised it wasn't common knowledge.

"Why would you do that?"

"Uh…to keep him away from you?" Dean asked as if he were hoping to get the answer right.

"Why? He's fine," she answered matter-of-factly.

Dean wanted to ask her how she knew, but he knew that would just lead to more questions. Instead he opted for the one question that mattered more than the "how" of things.

"You sure?"

"Positive. There's not even a _hint_ of Soraya left in him," she said with confidence.

"See? I told you two knuckle draggers I was okay!" Bobby, stepping out of the bathroom, had obviously listened to their conversation and was ready to use it in his argument.

Dean and Sam stood staring at each other. This definitely changed things, but thankfully to their advantage. At the same time though, the protective instinct they had for her still insisted that they put distance between the two of them…and soon. Dean broke the sudden silence.

"Sam, why don't you and Bobby go shopping inside while I help Meranda?"

Sam knew that this wasn't a request and as much as he'd rather not have Bobby's help, he knew it would get this over a lot faster.

"Let's go shopping," Sam said to Bobby as he headed for the door.

Bobby offered no resistance to the suggestion and hobbled his way out with Sam. Once they were outside, Sam began filling him in on their plans, carefully omitting any portions of it that involved Meranda.

Back in the room, Dean steeled himself for what was bound to be a painful process for Meranda. He had been in her place before and knew that when you're wounded like this, you learn over the few days following the initial incident that you use muscles you didn't even know you had to do the simplest of tasks. He went to the side of the bed closest to the door – the side opposite the wound. Gritting her teeth, she rolled onto her side, facing him, and pushed herself up onto her elbow. She swallowed hard as he helped her into a seated position then swung her legs over the side of the bed. He stood in front of her and offered his hands. She grasped them and squeezed them tightly, because of the pain and fear of how much worse it might get during the maneuver.

Once she was on her feet, they both released their breath.

"So far so good," she said, doing her best to stay upbeat.

It was clear that Dean was still upset with Bobby for hurting her, despite the fact that he was under the influence of Soraya when he did it. She made a mental note to make sure they talked in length about how that process works so that hopefully he could let go of the anger he still held. Until then, she wanted to make sure that her demeanor didn't fuel the fire that was smoldering just below the surface.

Dean moved to the side with the wound and held out his arm for support. Without hesitation, she took it and they began the slow trek to the bathroom. With each step she took in a sharp breath that she did her best to stifle. When he looked to her face to gage her progress, she made sure to throw on a smile whether she felt like it or not.

Finally entering the bathroom, Dean asked her if he should stay or go. She asked him to stay, but he could hear the reluctance in her voice and knew that if she didn't think she might need his help, she would've had him step out. Knowing this, he made sure to make his presence as inconspicuous as possible, turning his back to give her some privacy. The awkward silence urged him to break it, but somehow the idea of doing so seemed rude.

After she had finished, he felt a tug on the waist of his pants as she encouraged him to step backwards toward her. He did so silently and she placed both hands on his waist and pulled herself back up.

"There," she said with a smile when she was put back together again.

As they made the arduous walk back to the bed, Dean told her about their plan. Back at Dean's bed, he arranged the pillows against the headboard so that she could sit down with some semblance of comfort. After getting her situated, he poured her a glass of juice, minus the ice this time as it had all melted long ago. She said that she didn't mind as long as it was wet. This prompted Dean to give her a sly, sexy smile and waggle his eyebrows. She grabbed a pillow and held it to her side to keep the pain of laughing bearable. Though it was done so casually, it was an action that didn't slip Dean's attention.

He didn't mention it, but that small maneuver spoke volumes to him. She had done this before. It was so easy for him to forget that she wasn't just another girl…this girl had been around awhile and seen things that he knew he couldn't fathom – and he'd seen some insanity. The thoughts that began swirling through his mind threatened to overwhelm him. He quickly turned and began gathering their personal things and packing, doing his best to regain his composure by telling himself there'd be time for this later.

"So, how's it feeling this morning?" Dean asked as he packed, soothed to some degree by the way the sound of his voice broke the silence.

"It's starting to hurt a little more, but nothing too bad…yet," she added the last word after peeking at the dressing.

"Sam will get that filled on his way from escorting Bobby," Dean said.

"You still don't trust him, do you?" she asked in a tone that told him that she already knew the answer.

"Look, I saw the hatred in his eyes and I know that a part of him enjoyed doing it. I _know_ Bobby and even though she may have pulled the trigger, he was already loaded when she got him. He's not gonna ever look at you without seeing you through a hunter's eyes." He stopped there, feeling the anger rising and knowing that he needed to get his shit together. It was a very slippery slope and there was much to be done that loosing his cool didn't fit in with.

He slid into the bathroom with a small bag and began clearing out their things. In no time, he was walking back into the bedroom and putting the small bag into a much larger one. Zipping the last of them, he picked them up and began carrying them out to the Impala.

"So Jackie threatened you, huh?" she said trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, she was serious," Dean assured her.

"So...will you be following the doctor's orders?" she asked teasingly.

"If you think you can put up with us for that long, sure," he replied, hoping that the optimism he felt couldn't be heard in his voice.

"I think I _might_ be able to suffer through it," she said with a wink and smile.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's note:**_ I do not own these characters. Now...where were we?

* * *

_**Chapter 25**

By the time Dean got the Impala loaded, Sam and Bobby had finished their shopping mission and spoils had been added to both vehicles. Standing in the parking lot, they went over the mental check list together and when they got down to the part about torching the place, Bobby spoke up.

"I know you don't want my help, but let me at least suggest you wait until tonight to burn it. It's a small town and people who live here know whose cars have come and gone. Unless you want her getting questioned, I'd at least give them a day to see this place empty."

Dean seemed to meditate on the idea. From the look on Sam's face, he knew that Bobby had already discussed this with him and he was just waiting to see what Dean had to say on the subject.

"Fair enough," Dean said.

"It probably wouldn't hurt to use this access road over here where I parked too. At least it'll keep you outta sight." Bobby added.

"You wanna tell us what brand of gasoline to use too?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed.

"C'mon, Dean. You know he's just trying to help," Sam interjected, attempting to smooth things over.

"No, he's right," Bobby said. "He don't need _my_ help."

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. He knew if they hadn't reached an impasse, they were rapidly approaching it.

"Here," Dean said handing Sam the prescriptions. "You know what to do with these on your way back."

Dean started walking toward the room and as he passed Bobby, he looked in his eyes and nodded slightly.

Bobby watched him walk inside and as he began shutting the door, offered parting words.

"See ya," Bobby's voice was heavy with emotion.

"You ready," Sam asked.

"Hell, if I didn't know any better, son, I'd swear _you_ were trying to get rid of me too."

"We just need a little time is all," Sam offered.

Bobby thought of several responses he could've used, but since they all seemed to revolve around the words "half-demon bitch" he decided to keep it to himself. As he started toward the wooded area to his car, he told Sam about the path he'd cleared and marked. Sam thanked him as he got into Meranda's car and started the engine.

Dean watched Sam back out and stepped from the room as he approached the road. He stood and watched them as they drove away. He felt a huge burden lift gradually from his chest the further away they got. By the time they disappeared, he was back into the room and gathering Meranda.

As it turned out, she didn't live very far from the motel. When they pulled into the driveway of the small, nondescript ranch style house, Dean was somewhat surprised by the modesty of the grounds and the house itself. The first thought he had was how you'd think someone who'd been on the planet for over a thousand years would have something much more extravagant. He looked to Meranda, who was making a visual inspection of her home, and realized that it actually fit her perfectly. It was unpretentious, inviting and, for lack of a better word, cozy.

She had pulled her bag into her lap and dug around for the garage door opener. Finding it, she pressed the button and asked Dean to park on the left side, closer to the entry door for the house. Once the Impala was inside and Dean had turned off the engine, she pressed the button again and secured the garage door.

"You'll wanna flip that switch there by the door," she told him as he exited the car.

The dim light of the opener stayed on just long enough for him to reach the switch and turn on the overhead lights. There were no windows in the garage – something he'd always thought of as a wise decision. Why have a place to conceal your vehicle if someone just needs to peek in a window to see it.

He made his way to her side of the car, opened the door and began helping her out. She handed him her keys with the correct one for the entry door already selected.

He took the keys and then her hand. If he didn't know better, he'd have to say that she was moving much more fluidly than when she woke up and maybe she was. He still didn't know how much of her human side was predominant...another question added to the mounting pile.

Making their way to the door, Dean stepped forward, unlocked it and swung it open for her. Meranda walked into the house and he followed, noticing immediately the salt at the threshold as he closed and locked the door behind them. There was a hint of cinnamon in the air, as if one could expect to find an apple pie fresh from the oven sitting on the stove. It was an inviting scent that made him smile. When he turned back toward Meranda, he began taking in his surroundings.

They were standing in a large, open room that held the living and dining rooms. The dining room held a small oblong wooden table with four chairs around it. There was a black wrought iron shelf unit on one wall that held various plants and knick-knacks. A small painting of a woman standing on a beach, her back to the artist, adorned the wall opposite the shelves. This wall also had an open bar that allowed part of the kitchen to be seen.

The living room had a large, overstuffed sectional sofa that wrapped around the far corner of the room, the front door just behind it. A tile-topped coffee table holding three remote controls and a book sat between the sofa and an entertainment center that housed a decent sized television, photographs, a stereo, a large CD collection and more plants.

"Make yourself at home," she said, smiling at the curiosity she saw in his eyes as he visually absorbed the room.

She walked through the living room and turned right into the kitchen. Turning on the light, she spoke to him over her shoulder.

"If you're thirsty or hungry, the kitchen's stocked."

"Yeah, we uh...we brought some groceries too," he said, still taking in his surroundings.

He was making his way to the other side of the couch, the hallway peaking his curiosity, when his phone rang. He stopped, pulled it from his pocket and wasn't surprised to see it was Sam on the other end.

"Yeah," he said answering.

He gave Sam directions to the house and went out into the garage to open the door and wait for him. From where Sam said he was, Dean knew he'd be there within five minutes, pending some unforeseen obstacle.

Three minutes later, Sam was rolling the Cavalier into the garage. As Dean pressed the button on the wall by the door, Sam cut the engine. By the time he got to the door himself, the garage door was closed. Dean had already walked in and left the door open for him.

Sam walked in and looked around as he walked to the coffee table and placed the two paper bags down. Meranda was carefully walking away from him down the hallway.

"Where's Meranda going?" Sam asked his brother casually.

Dean realized that he'd left her unattended and instantly felt remorse. As he jogged past Sam to get to her, he had visions of Jackie kicking his ass with an iron pipe – an image that _should_ have had him on his knees with tears of laughter running down his cheeks, but somehow tugged at his conscience instead.

"Slow down, Speedy Gonzales," he said jokingly as he caught up to her. "You need to let me know when you need help, you know?"

Holding onto the walls of the hallway as she walked, she spoke without breaking stride.

"I know…I don't want to wear out _my_ welcome either."

"Okay, how about I just follow you and if you want help, you ask and I'll already be there…and if you want privacy, you let me know and I back off…at least for today."

Dean had tried his best to see her as a supernatural creature, but he just couldn't. When he tried to think about it, the abyss of thought threatened to swallow him still. When he felt it was about to overwhelm him, another sensation swept him out of its grasp. He realized that he suddenly wanted her. Slightly confused by this abrupt desire, he shook his head as if to clear it.

Without realizing it, he had followed her into what was obviously her bedroom. A large queen size four-poster bed stood against one wall. It was high off the floor and a small set of steps stood beside it. There was white netting draped from the posts giving it an exotic, but romantic feel. The smell of her seemed to be everywhere and as he breathed it in, he knew he had to touch her. By the time he noticed where they were, she was standing in her bathroom and he was staring at her from outside the door.

She had turned on the water in the bathtub and was doing her best to undress. He didn't wait for her to ask. He went to her, grasped her hands and gently moved them away from their activity. She had managed to unbutton her jeans, but no further.

Kneeling in front of her, Dean unzipped her pants and, sliding his thumbs between the material and her skin, peeled them down to the floor, trying his best not to pull on the wound side anymore than necessary. When they were down to her feet, she placed one hand on his head, the other on the vanity to stabilize herself. She slowly lifted one foot as he pushed the pants from her leg completely and then repeated the process for the other leg. Lifting her shirt as carefully as possible, he inched the hem to the top of the bandage. At the sight of it, his stomach did a small flip and felt the phantom of pain from the work Jackie did on it. He closed his eyes and put his forehead lightly against her stomach.

She slid her hand still on his head, to the back of it and ran her thumb back and forth over his scalp, his soft, short hair bristling back up as she passed over it. He breathed in her smells deeply and fought the urge to pull her closer, knowing that it would cause her pain. He kissed her skin and stood, grasping her shirt and lifting it. She raised her arms and he pulled it off as deliberately as he could. He looked into her face and saw the same longing in her eyes that he felt.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **_I still don't own these characters. SMUT ALERT! Enough said? :) Sorry this took so long to get updated.

* * *

_**Chapter 26**

Releasing a heavy sigh, Meranda pulled away. She walked past Dean to a tall cabinet and opened it. He could see two shelves filled with thick towels, another with bottles and jars of different shapes and sizes and what appeared to be a large red tool box with the words "FIRST AID" on the front of it. She took two bottles from the top shelf – one cobalt blue, the other clear – and handed them to Dean who sat them on the vanity. She then pulled out a large towel and attempted to take out the first aid kit before looking to him for assistance.

Without speaking, he gave her a look that said that she should know better. She stepped out of the way and he picked up the box, putting it on the vanity as well while she closed the cabinet. He watched as she took the two bottles – one containing a powder, the other a liquid – and poured measured amounts into the bathwater. A sweet aroma filled the room and the water seemed to come alive, bubbling and roiling. She handed him the bottles and he put them back into the cabinet where she'd gotten them. Turning back to her, he realized that she'd taken off her undergarments and now stood completely naked, with the exception of the bandage, before him.

The desire hadn't left him, but the bandage poked at his need to care for her, causing him to put that need before his wants. He went to her and she took his hands as she stepped into the large cast iron bathtub. Her skin immediately began turning pink from the heat of the water and as she gradually lowered herself down into it, her breath caught in her throat with each inch. Once she was settled, she lay back. The water was deep enough to cover her up to her neck. She took in a breath and held it before sliding completely under, wetting her hair. As the water continued to bubble around her, she slowly began removing the bandage. Dean watched in silence, not sure if he should advise against it.

Once it was removed she pulled it from the water, balled it up and tossed it into the small trashcan beside the door. She opened the bottle of shampoo that sat in a basket attached to the side of the tub and Dean watched as she washed her hair. She squeezed the water from her hair when she was finished and in no time had it twisted into a neat bun at the crown of her head. Removing an elastic band from the neck of the shampoo bottle, she secured her hair into place. Next, she picked up a large sea sponge and a small bottle. Dean took them from her and, after wetting the sponge in the water, applied a dollop of the tonic from the bottle to it and began bathing her. He'd been reluctant to wash her hair because of its length, but he remembered how comforting it was when she bathed him and was determined to return the favor.

He began washing her face and neck and she closed her eyes and rolled her head from one side to the other as he went. She submerged again to rinse and rose slowly back up for him to continue. As he moved to her shoulders and back she delivered a contented sigh, her muscles visibly relaxing under his touch.

He slid his hand under her arm, following its shape with his fingers down to her hand and raised it out of the water. Tracing the contours of her arm from her shoulder down to her fingertips, he then raised it higher and followed the underside down to her armpit and then to her breast. He repeated the process on her other arm. She sat up straighter, lifting more of her upper body out of the water and as Dean worked the sponge toward the wound, he lessened the amount of pressure he was using, trying his best to avoid causing her pain. But as he inched his way closer, he noticed that the wound looked more like it had a week's worth of time to heal instead of less than 24 hours. When his motions slowed, she looked down at the wound and then to Dean.

"It's a combination of my abilities and the potions in the water," she said, answering the question she saw in his eyes.

He hadn't realized until she answered that as much as he wanted to know the answers, he was reluctant to ask the questions, to take that first step toward the ominous chasm of thought that he has managed to escape until now.

As if testing the strength of a rickety bridge by adding slight pressure on the first board, he asked, "Potions? Are you a witch too?" His tone was unassuming and not accusatory.

Laughing lightly, she responded, "No…my mother and father employed a healer. I guess she would be considered more like a witchdoctor, but she used her magic only to heal. Her thought on the subject was that if she concentrated all of her magic on doing _one_ thing rather than a variety of things, she could be the best ever at whatever she chose as a specialty. She was very compassionate and empathetic toward others and to her it only made sense to choose to heal. Anyway, she knew that she wouldn't always be there to heal our family and she taught my mother and me to make a variety of healing potions and powders for ourselves."

He had continued bathing her as he listened. They both seemed relieved the longer she spoke – her because she was able to share a part of herself she'd had to keep guarded for longer than he could imagine and him mainly because she wasn't also a witch. He was fairly certain that just grasping the concept of the succubus part of her was going to be all he could handle. He was also rather surprised to learn that there's a possibility that although he'd been taught these things fit into neat little boxes, they don't necessarily fit at all. He was still on the fence as to whether this veiled revelation was a good thing or a bad thing. His experience told him that if it were true it would more than likely be a double-edged sword. His mind drifted back to the conversation he'd had with Sam and that one question, "_What if there's more?_"

Although he knew that was an avenue worth exploring, Dean very much wanted to stay focused on the task at hand, exploring that bridge a little further.

"How long before you're healed completely?" he asked, lifting one of her legs from the water and running the sudsy sponge down its length.

"Trying to cut your stay short?" she asked teasingly.

He stopped what he was doing, her leg still in his hand, and looked at her before answering, "Not at all. I'm just…curious, I guess."

His eyes spoke volumes to her, not only of the sincerity of his words, but the courage he was invoking simply by engaging in this conversation. She felt remorseful for taunting him and was nearly overcome with appreciation. What was she thinking? The Winchester brothers may not know it, but they were famous among the supernatural kind – whether you were on their radar or not. She was by birth, although not by nature, the very thing they had spent their life hunting and exterminating. And even though they'd spent a lifetime chasing and killing them, they'd probably never had an encounter quite like this one…one that would allow them first hand information if they just had the gumption to ask. One that allowed them to explore without fear of harm or even death. She had gotten so caught up in enjoying their closeness that she had let herself forget they were different, not only from her, but from others of their kind.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…it's not an exact science. Depending on the extent of the injury, it could be a few days if I keep using these or as long as a few weeks if I'm not diligent with treatment."

He smiled at her and continued the task at hand. When he finished, he picked up the towel and opened it. She rinsed herself one last time, then slowly stood and wiped the water from her skin with her hands after releasing the plug from the drain. She stepped out of the large tub and Dean began gently drying her. She closed her eyes and smiled, enjoying every second of his attention to detail as the thirsty towel drank the water from her body.

Once she was dry, she opened the first aid kit and brought out a small vial. She opened it and applied the thick salve it held liberally to the wound. Taking out a large gauze pad and tape, she closed the kit. Dean took these from her and after securing the pad in place with the tape, returned it to the kit and the kit to the cabinet.

She reached up and pulled the hair tie from her hair, letting it fall. She opened the top drawer of the vanity, removed a large comb and began running it through her long wet locks. Dean stood, watching and feeling helpless to offer assistance. Despite the urge he had to take the comb from her and continue the job, not knowing _how_ to proceed was the only thing that stopped him. So he continued to watch, remembering that they would be with her for the next seven days and taking note of every movement so that he'd be able to act on the urge the next time it struck him.

Still naked, she stepped into her bedroom with Dean following closely behind. She opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and took out a small folded stack of white clothing. Dean took them from her as she closed the drawer, then took her hand and led her to the bed. Standing beside the tall berth, he placed the stack of clothing on the mattress and picked up the first piece which, when he unfolded it, turned out to be a thin sleeveless shirt made of eyeleted cotton. He laid it aside and picked up the other piece of material and held it up at the waist – a pair of shorts made of the same material. As he debated on which should come first and remembering her torturous behavior when she dressed him, she took the shorts from him and laid them on top of the shirt. Taking him by the hand, she began moving backward on the bed, pulling his hand and urging him to join her...not that he required very much coaxing.

As soon as Dean realized what she was doing, he pulled back. Noticing her confusion, he smiled before turning and closing her bedroom door. On his walk back toward the bed, he began stripping off his clothes. By the time he reached the small set of steps, he too was naked. He climbed up next to her and as he pulled her close, she nuzzled her face into his neck. She breathed in his smells and did her best to memorize the smoothness of his skin against her own.

His hands slowly and lightly followed her curves, much in the same way they did as he bathed her. Starting at the nape of her neck, down her shoulder to her arm and down to her fingertips, up her side, to her breast where, when his fingers brushed across the skin, he heard and felt her breath quicken. He pulled his face back and looked into her eyes as he continued to her other breast, watching her eyes close as her breath caught in her throat.

She felt the warmth and wetness of his mouth against her neck as he kissed, licked and gently bit it. She felt the heat of his breath as it caressed her when his mouth slid from her neck to her ear where he licked and nibbled – all the while still fondling her breasts. As his mouth made its way to hers, his hand slid to her stomach and hip. When his moist, soft lips met hers, his hand slid between her legs and as she felt his tongue plunge into her mouth, the soft silkiness of it against her own as they danced together, his fingers thrust into her moist center.

He felt her breath against his face as a soft moan escaped her throat. Her wetness engulfed his fingers and after sliding them into her a few times, he used them to find the one spot he knew would make her cry out in pleasure. As he gently circled it, her mouth became more and more hungry, her body following the movements of his fingers. Her hand squeezed his bicep then his forearm, urging him to bring her to release. Her hand, rushing from his arm to his side to his hip, squeezing and pulling him, came to rest on his hard manhood where she continued to squeeze and pull. He felt her chest press against his as she arched her back.

She felt the sound of his enjoyment, rumble in his chest as it was released into her mouth from his. She pulled her tongue from his mouth just long enough to relay her desire.

"I need you inside me...please!" she begged.

His mouth met hers again as he moved in between her legs. He felt her mouth pull away from his as her back arched and she released a sharp cry of pleasure as he sank into her as deeply as he could. He raised his body and looked down at her as he continued plowing into her, watching her hands as they grasped the thick bedding.

Her hands left the bedding and went to her own body. One cupped her breast as the other went to her pleasure center and began circling it as he had done earlier while he continued to bury himself deep inside her. Her back arched as satisfaction threatened to overtake her. As her breathing quickened, she began thrusting her hips to meet his and just moments later they were both in the ecstasy of release.

Collapsing on the bed next to her, Dean wondered if he'd ever been so satiated. Still catching his breath, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Care for a shower," he asked.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's notes: **_Sadly, I do not own these characters. Sorry for the delay in posting. Seems I overdid it over the weekend and it's taken me most of the week to recover. Safe to say I won't be doing THAT again. Enjoy and please review.

* * *

_**Chapter 27**

After showering together and redressing her wound, which appeared even more healed than it did during the first dressing, they dressed and wandered out into the living room where Sam was inspecting her music collection. He wasn't the least bit surprised that she had eclectic tastes and she had everything from classical to classic rock. It was easy to see which genres she liked more than others and it appeared that country was lowest on her list – unless you wanted to include hip hop, rap, grunge and the like because she had absolutely none of those.

"My mood determines what I listen to," she said, as if she knew what he was thinking.

"That's a lot of different moods," Sam said with a smile, looking up from the medley of music.

"Well, I _am_ female, first and foremost," she said with a laugh. "I find music can be very…powerful…where the soul is concerned."

The tone in her voice peaked Sam's interest instantly. "Really? How so?"

"Well," she thought for a moment, "it can manipulate your mood, your attitude…your thoughts…even your inhibitions," she replied with a sly, but distant smile. "It was the music that gave me the extra push of courage to mark _you_ that night."

Instead of being embarrassed as he was when it was the topic of conversation with Bobby, discussing it here and now just felt…right somehow. He looked at her and smiled warmly.

"By the way, you might wanna watch Dean around your Mullet Rock collection," Sam said half-jokingly.

Moving in and giving his brother a nice shot in the arm, Dean stepped to the entertainment center.

"What kinda collection are we talking here?" Dean asked, as he scanned the stacks of CD's.

Chopin, Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert, Strauss, and Brahms sat proudly beside the likes of AC/DC, Metallica, Billy Squire, Joe Walsh, Black Sabbath, Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Foreigner, Boston, and Kansas which flowed into contenders like Teddy Pendergrass, Anita Baker, Marvin Gaye, Patti LaBelle, Aretha Franklin, and Barry White who then gave way to artists like Nickelback, Theory of a Dead Man, Hinder, Maroon 5 – the list just kept going. Dean smiled to himself thinking how he'd like to have her under him ...or over him...or in front of him…to more than a few of these soundtracks. He wasn't gonna be picky about the position.

"I don't know if Dean mentioned it, but the kitchen's fully stocked," she said.

Without further prompting, Sam went into the kitchen and peeked into the refrigerator. She wasn't kidding – there was enough food in there to feed a small army. Sam chuckled at the thought because just last night, that's what they were. He took out the carton of eggs and a package of bacon.

"Breakfast?" he asked holding them up for Meranda and Dean to see.

"Bacon? Oh _hell_ yeah!" Dean said, giving the idea his seal of approval.

Sam laughed and looked to Meranda who once again seemed to read his mind.

"The skillet's in the cabinet by the stove. Would you like some help?"

"No, you rest. We've got this," Sam said, volunteering Dean's assistance. "Got a toaster and bread?"

"Toaster's in the tall cabinet, bread's in the bread box on the counter – hope you guys like rye. Oh, and butter's in the dish beside it," she answered as Dean made his way into the kitchen. "Silverware and cooking utensils are in the drawers on the far side of the stove."

She sat on the sofa where she had a perfect view into the kitchen and began watching them. It was apparent that they weren't exactly versed in cooking for themselves, but they weren't strangers to how it worked either. In no time at all, the house was filled with the smells of breakfast mingled with the sounds of playful banter and hearty laughter.

Leaning back from his position in front of the toaster, Dean peered into the living room at her.

"Plates?" he asked.

"Top cabinet right in front of you," she answered with a smile.

Dean got out plates and silverware for three and began placing them around the table. When he was finished with the settings, he looked to her again.

"Glasses?"

"Top cupboard by the fridge," she said.

Wanting to contribute something to the activities, she went to the kitchen access from the dining room, reached in and produced a small stack of napkins from the tall cabinet. She placed one under each set of silverware and the rest on the table.

Dean appeared again in the dining room, carefully carrying three glasses of orange juice. After placing each glass, he disappeared back into the kitchen and began bringing plates holding the cooked food as the sounds of Sam washing the dishes he'd used rang out.

Meranda went into the kitchen on Dean's last trip out and quickly put together a bowl of fresh fruit and added it to the spread already on the table just as Sam walked in to join them. As each of them sat down, Meranda flanked on each side by them, they all felt a sudden hunger they hadn't realized they had before.

Showing some manners and not digging in and chowing down the way they normally would, they waited for their host. Instead of preparing her plate however, she placed her hands on the table, palms up and motioned with her fingers for the brothers to take them. Sam and Dean looked across the table at each other before taking her hands. Meranda looked from Dean to Sam and back again, with her eyebrows slightly raised. Letting out a sullen sigh in stereo, they took each other's hands as well. Once the circle was complete, Meranda bowed her head and began saying grace over their meal. During her prayer, the boys exchanged questioning glances and Dean looked at the bacon like a lover who'd just spurned him. They managed to bow their heads just before she finished, their lack of participation going unnoticed.

"Let's eat," she said enthusiastically.

That was all they needed to hear and without further hesitation, everyone was preparing their plates and passing food around the table to each other. They ate in companionable silence before Meranda broke it.

"Um...I thought I'd let you guys know that while you're here, any questions you have, and I mean _any_ questions, I'll be happy to answer them. It's the least I can do for what you've already done for me and having you here with me for a week is just icing on the cake."

"Having us impose on you for a week isn't exactly something you should feel is a good thing," Sam said chuckling.

She smiled warmly at him before speaking, the sincerity in her voice clear. "I honestly can't think of anything I'd like better."

Sam took a few more bites before asking what would be the first of many questions during their stay.

"The prayer before we ate...?"

She finished the morsel she was already chewing and then answered. "Um, my dad? Pope? It was kind of a requirement at our table when I was growing up and became a habit that stuck. Besides, it's not a bad thing to take a moment and to express thanks for the things you have."

Sam and Dean both gave a half tilted nod of acknowledgment. A bite or two later, Dean took a turn.

"So what was _that_ like – growing up with the Pope as your pop? I mean, even Billy Joel put it to music...that whole "Catholic girl" thing."

"I really didn't get to see him much. He kind of denied my mother until he was almost on his deathbed and he never publicly claimed me. My mother said that it was to protect us as much as it was to protect himself. He supported us, kept a roof over our heads and food on the table, but his visits were very sporadic. The most time I really spent with him was when he visited once for a month. I think I was actually ready for him to leave when the time came." She spoke of him with little regret in her voice and as if she was recounting memories of just weeks ago instead of centuries.

"What about work?" Sam asked. "Do you need to call in?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No...I own it so unless they need me, they won't be expecting me."

Sam and Dean exchanged surprised, confused expressions and then looked to her. They both thought of different ways to retort, but stopped after opening their mouths to speak several times. She laughed in response.

"Seriously, a thousand years on this planet and you really think the best I could do was waitress?"

They looked to each other for help, but got none.

"But the cook...the way he talked to you..." Sam tried.

"He's always like that with _everyone_. He's a cantankerous old cuss, but he's a great cook and an intensely loyal employee. Despite outward appearances, he's a good man too."

"So you were covering for a sick employee?" Dean asked with a sideways grin. "What are the odds?"

Her smile faded before she answered. "Quite good actually...I was hoping to find you two before Soraya did."

"Wait, you knew even then that she was after us?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I knew...but I didn't know whether or not I'd be able to stop her. And I _definitely_ didn't know that I'd actually luck out and have fate smile on me by having you walk into the diner that night." She answered.

"How? How did you know?" Sam asked.

"You guys don't even know who you are, do you?" she asked in amazement.

Looking confused again, she didn't wait for them to speak.

"You're _the_ Winchesters...supes everywhere know who you are!"

"Supes?" Dean asked.

"Supernatural beings – the things you hunt...and even the things you don't."

"Wait, so you knew who we were from the beginning?" Sam asked.

"_Yes_!" she stressed. "I also know about the work you do – work that needs doing and, quite honestly, hasn't been done as well as you two do it in a _very_ long time."

Instantly getting his ego fluffed, Dean asked, "Huh...how long is '_very_ long'?"

Sam's lips tightened before retorting with, "Dean!"

"It's okay Sam," Meranda said placing her hand on his wrist. "When I said that I'd answer any question, I really did mean _any_ question." Turning her attention to Dean, she answered, "We're talking a couple of centuries at least," she answered in earnest.

Dean smiled smugly and crossed his arms. "Hear that Sammy? _Centuries_," he whispered the last word as if it were fragile and might break.

Ignoring his ego flexing, she continued.

"I couldn't just let her take you. I'm sorry if you don't think I should've interfered, but when you walked in that night, I'm convinced it was for a reason...other than being hungry. I don't believe in coincidences. If my time here has taught me one thing it's that nothing just happens – it's _all_ connected. Besides, she's gone now and I get to spend some quality time with you before you have to get back out there again. I'm looking at it as a win, win situation."

By this time, she had finished her meal and began clearing empty dishes from the table, giving them time to let this new information sink in a little more. After rinsing and putting them in the dishwasher, she reappeared in the dining room with the carafe of orange juice and refilled their glasses. Taking her seat again, she calmly asked, "So what time did you wanna go torch the motel?"

* * *

**Parting note:** _Although I already have a list of questions to be resolved, I thought I'd do something a little different and let YOU the reader submit questions you'd like to see answered. This chapter is just their morning of their first day with her so we've got seven full days to ask whatever we want. Don't be shy! Submit one or more questions that you'd like to see the boys ask her and I'll do my level best to work it into the story. _


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's notes:** _I do not own these characters. I apologize for the delay in getting this posted. I've been experiencing some SERIOUS technical issues that are hopefully resolved. Please, read, enjoy and review!

* * *

_**Chapter 28**

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said. "Is it just me or did it almost sound like you mean to go with us?" His brow was furrowed, hand under his chin, forefinger across his lips.

Barely turning her head, but cutting her eyes at him and with a slight smile, Meranda answered him. "And _you_ sound as if you think you can stop me."

Dean dropped his hand, slightly surprised by her response. He looked to Sam who simply shrugged and tilted his head as if to say, "You asked for it." So much for expecting Sam to take his side...Dean dropped his shoulders and head slightly, releasing a heavy sigh.

"I guess we'll go a few hours after dark. How busy is that area usually?" Dean said answering her question.

"Not bad at all, really. Especially between say 8:00 and 10:00? People going to the bar are already there and people leaving it are few and far between…and any who_ are_ leaving are more concerned with doing their best to appear sober. That requires quite a lot of concentration, which will no doubt work in our favor."

Dean began speaking, but appeared to be talking more to himself than anyone else, voicing his thoughts to make sure they were sound. "Pull into the access behind the motel at the first clear chance. Slide up behind the buildings, make our way to the shed, use the fuel to prep both the room and the house. Sam will take the house, I'll take the room. Ignite them almost simultaneously from within so that by the time the flames are noticed from the road, it's far enough gone to be a lost cause for the fire department and, more importantly, we're long gone." Looking into his eyes, it was easy to see that he mentally played out the scenario as he spoke it. Pleased with the end result, he nodded his head as he looked at Sam.

Sam pursed his lips and nodded in agreement.

"What will I do?" Meranda asked.

Dean took her hand in his and brought it to his warm lips. After leaning forward and kissing it, he placed it against his chin and smiled into her face. "You, Miss Defiance, will sit in the car and be our look out."

Instead of scoffing at this the way he expected her to, she looked rather pleased with the outcome. This left Dean wondering if maybe he missed something.

Easily reading him, she answered, "Look Out is kind of a specialty of mine."

"Specialty?" Sam asked.

"Let's just say that my senses have the ability to be ramped up just a few notches higher than yours. Sight, sound, smell, taste…_and_ touch," she added this last part with a wickedly seductive smile aimed at Dean whose eyes dilated slightly in arousal.

Sam replied without missing a beat, "That would _definitely _be helpful. We could get a read on the place before we go in too. I know that we'd like to assume there's no one else there, but if we can be sure, I'd rather we were."

Meranda and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Well," Meranda said standing up, "if that's all figured out, I'd like to get a load of laundry started so bring me your dirty clothes. And if you'd like, you can bring in anything you don't want to tote everywhere you go. Please, make yourselves at home, _really_." She hoped the sincerity she felt had been conveyed.

She gathered what dishes were left on the table and went into the kitchen with them while Sam and Dean went to the garage to gather their things.

"Shouldn't she be resting a little more?" Sam inquired as he opened the trunk of her car.

"Dude, _you_ heard her in there. Did it sound like she was gonna take 'no' for an answer to you?"

Sam laughed. "No, she was fairly adamant. Honestly though, she's doing a lot better than I thought she'd be so soon after an injury like that."

"Ha! You haven't seen it! It looks more like it happened a week ago, not less than a day after." Dean told him.

Sam stopped in his tracks. "Is that part of her powers?"

"Well, that's part of it…the other part is these potions she's using."

"Potions? She's a witch too?"

"No, no…" Dean said this as though Sam should've thought the idea ludicrous.

"Then what? She knows a witch?"

Dean paused, and with a slightly raised brow said, "Well, it appears that you may just be right in your theory. There may just be a good possibility that there _are_ more like Meranda."

For a moment Sam stood speechless, his expressions broadcasting his rapid thought process. As his face went from surprise and awe to slightly confused to pure revelation, Dean watched, waiting for him to voice what he already knew.

"That's just…incredible!" Sam finally managed. "Do you realize what kind of doors this could open? If we had inside information…" his words faded into thought, so many thoughts that he was barely able to keep up with them.

The look on Dean's face told Sam that his brother had already thought about this and that it would definitely be a topic of discussion during the days to come. He already had enough questions swirling around in his head for her without this new information. She might end up feeling like she's being interrogated if they aren't careful. Sam made a mental note to make sure he did his best to remain sensitive to her position in this despite the internal battle he was having about how this is less explored territory for them than it was for her.

The entry door to the house opened and Meranda stepped through carrying an empty laundry basket. Handing it to Dean who was unloading the Impala, she said, "If you'll give me your dirty clothes, I'll get them in the washer."

Dean did as he was asked and gauged the weight of the basket to be tolerable for her before reluctantly handing it back. He cautiously watched her for any signs of stress or pain as she took it from him and was relieved to find none.

When she disappeared back into the house, the boys continued unloading the vehicles and began taking things inside the house after getting the Impala what Dean liked to refer to as "battle ready" – supplies and ammo restocked and a running list of anything needed for future use. The guns used the night before were set aside for cleaning after everything else was taken in.

Walking toward the hallway with their personal things, Dean asked Meranda who was standing in front of the washer and dryer that was nicely hidden across from what he guessed were the guest rooms where they should put their things. Up until that point, he hadn't really given it much thought…and the look on her face told him that she hadn't either.

"Wherever you want," she said, finally settling with the only option she could come up with. "That room there is a guest room, that one's more an office and the little couch in there is not very comfortable, or you can put it all in my room if you want…completely up to you." She smiled warmly at both of them before turning her attention back to the laundry.

Dean looked to Sam who shrugged as if to say, "You tell me." With that, Dean walked past Meranda and turned right into her bedroom. Sam took a step or two forward and peeked around the corner into her room, then turned back to the guest room and pushed the door open with his bag.

The guest room wasn't nearly as large as her bedroom, but still brandished a large queen size bed, a short chest of drawers and a television. The room seemed filled before Sam stepped into it and once inside, his large frame and bag appeared cramped. Meranda had watched him attempt to make his way around the room without depositing his bag on the bed or floor. She stifled a giggle as his face clearly displayed his dismay.

"Sam, I was talking to _both_ of you. You're more than welcome to put your things in my room too."

With her approval, Sam quickly exited the guest room and almost ran into Dean as he was coming out of her room. Sidestepping each other, they silently passed one another.

Dean went straight to the next thing on his list. "Do you have any newspaper?" he asked Meranda.

"Sure, there's a good bit of it out in the garage. It's in the recycle bin to your left as you step out of the house," she said, closing the bifold doors and concealing the washer and dryer again.

Dean started toward the garage again, but stopped and turned back to her.

"We need to clean some weapons. Where's the best place for that?"

She walked to him, entwined her arm in his and began walking with him toward the garage.

"At the table. I've got just the thing," she answered.

In the garage, she pointed out the newspaper to him then went to a set of shelves against the back wall and pulled out a large, white folded drop cloth. Back in the dining room, she placed it on the table and began unfolding it. Once the table was covered, Dean placed newspaper on top of it and began bringing the weapons and cleaning kit inside. Sam joined him on his second trip out to the garage and helped bring in the last of it.

As they settled in at the table and began cleaning their weapons, Meranda went through her CD's and popped one into the player. Moments later, Eddie Money began singing "Baby Hold On" and she adjusted the volume to a tolerable level before sitting in the curve of the couch and putting her feet up. She sat in silence watching them work, feeling the tension that had been slowly growing. No one had mentioned it, but she knew that they felt it too. They were just experiencing the strangeness of not being on neutral ground. At the hotel, _they_ were at home, but here, _she_ was and that brought uneasiness to both of them. She hated that they didn't feel comfortable enough to just relax, but also knew that after this business at the motel was over, it would probably alleviate a lot of the stress they were feeling…or at least that was her hope.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: **_I do not own these characters. Read, enjoy...and review! :)_

* * *

**Chapter 29**

The day passed both quickly and slowly at the same time, the way it sometimes does when you have a particularly ugly task ahead of you that you'd simply like to be finished with. One moment they looked at the clock thinking how the minutes were dragging by; the next they were surprised to see darkness falling and wondering where the day went.

They had spent the day getting ready for the job before them. They went over and over and over the plan, checking supplies each time they did, much like they'd done the night before when preparing for Soraya's arrival. During one of the many times they were going over it yet again, Dean found his mind wandering to all the preparation they'd done the night before and then to the fact that it hadn't helped them one iota when compared to what actually happened. A fresh flash of anger hit him as his mind replayed those critical moments in slow motion, the way the mind's eye often has a way of doing when regret is chewing at you. He closed his eyes as part of him wished he'd hit Bobby harder. The thought was still lingering as Meranda slid her arms around his waist from behind him, pressing her cheek against his back.

"It'll be okay. It's off the beaten path and we all know it forwards and backwards at this point," she said squeezing him gently and kissing him between his shoulder blades.

"A lot of good that did us last time," Dean said without hiding his anger.

Meranda let go of him and circled around to stand in front of him and Sam. She took their hands and led them over to the sofa where they sat on either side of her, their hands still in hers. Just as the silence threatened to fill the room, Meranda spoke.

"I want you to both stop being angry with Bobby. This wasn't his fault. Honestly, if I hadn't marked Sam, Soraya could've used him for the same purpose and he would have held the same hatred for me. I don't know this man's relationship to you, but a blind cow could see that he loves you both." She looked from Dean to Sam and back. "What good did we really do killing her if you're just gonna let her win by carrying this anger in your hearts," her tone was soft and gentle, as if speaking to scolded children.

Sam and Dean stared into the distance thinking over her words carefully. Sam took in a deep breath and released it before responding.

"I can't speak for Dean, but for me? I _know_ he wasn't a fan to begin with. That doesn't exactly help me in the forgiveness department."

"It doesn't matter, Sam," she said, affectionately squeezing his hand. "I don't expect everyone to like me. If I'd wanted to, I could've merely touched him when he wasn't under her power and he wouldn't have been able to _stop_ himself from liking me, despite what I am. I didn't because that's just not something I could do in good conscience. Besides, I'd rather he like me on his own and if _you_ believe that I'm not the same as the others – like Soraya – then convince him." She said this so matter-of-factly that Sam was nodding in agreeance before he noticed the expression on Dean's face.

"Convince him?" Dean's tone was as snarled as his face. "And just how the hell do we do _that_ when _he's_ convinced that we're under some sort of spell?" He paused a moment before adding, with the same anger in his voice, "_Are we_? I mean, is there more to this than just a little mojo bullshit being used on us to keep you in favor?"

She looked at him, smiled and shook her head. "Well, if that's all it is, then I absolutely _suck_ at this shit because I don't think I'd have you angry at me if it were within my power."

Caught off guard, his mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but snapped shut again before anything came out.

"See?" she asked shaking her head. "There's _so_ much more to this than me just…" she struggled to find the words and to keep her own emotions in check. "Than just…working some sort of magic on you. I don't wanna surrounded by a bunch of sheep! I don't want people to like me because I can _make_ them I want the real thing or nothing at all."

"The fact that there's more – others who aren't what they seem..._that_ might help," Sam offered his words to Dean who suddenly stopped clenching his jaw in frustration when the words sank in.

Hoping to provide a measure of comfort, Meranda added, "If nothing else, _please _just know in your hearts what I am…and the rest will come later. As far as I'm concerned as long as _you_ know, then the rest doesn't matter."

They sat in silence for a moment, Sam and Meranda watching Dean's troubled expression slowly soften around the edges before fading completely. When he spoke, he had to clear his throat twice, as if the words had gotten stuck there.

"I'll do my best to give him the benefit of the doubt, but seriously? I don't see you getting on his Christmas card list anytime soon."

Meranda slowly smiled a broad smile at him and nodded as she spoke. "Ah…but you see me getting on it."

There was a brief moment of silence before the brothers looked at each other and then burst into laughter, both of them picturing Bobby addressing Christmas cards…possibly even wearing a Santa hat.

With that, the tension wasn't quite broken, but several significant cracks and dents had been delivered to it. Getting the night's errand out of the way would hopefully break it completely.

When it was finally time to go, they'd rehearsed, rehashed and repeated the plan so many times that even the smallest aspect of leaving seemed like just one more review. Meranda wondered if that wasn't part of the reason they did it…so that maybe by the time they were actually performing whatever horrid or dangerous act that needed doing, they were somewhat desensitized to it. It would certainly make it easier to deal with things afterward as well.

Meranda nestled between them, the ride there was relatively quiet, Joe Walsh quietly singing "Life's Been Good" in the background. As they closed the distance between themselves and the motel, the inside of the Impala began buzzing with adrenaline fueled tension. She had ridden the entire way there with a hand on each of their legs and by the time they pulled into the clearing that the access road led to, she could almost see it emanating from them.

When Dean cut the engine, they both turned to her, waiting for her to perform her self-proclaimed specialty. Instead she sat looking back at them, surprised that she could feel the tension inside them rising even more. Dean was about to ask her if she was okay when she cut him off to ask her own question.

"Would you mind if I took from you?"

Their eyes went from her to each other, their faces mirrored with confusion. Almost simultaneously, they asked, "Took?"

"Some of your excess energy – it would help in vamping up my senses _and_ relieve a little of the stress you're both feeling right now…it's literally coming off you in waves!"

Exchanging glances again, they nodded in agreement. Without another word, she looped her arms through theirs and pulled them gently toward her. They scooted over until they were pressed snuggly against her on each side. With their arms touching shoulder to shoulder in front of her, she hugged them to her face, slowly and deeply breathing in their scents. Moments later she released a sigh of satisfaction before kissing each of their arms and releasing her grip on them.

Over the top of her head, they look at each other and half shrug after gauging their own stress levels and find that they actually _are_ more relaxed about the work about to be done. Looking back at her, they also notice that her cheeks are rosy pink and she's giving off a healthy glow.

She looked at them and smiled, then began wiggling back and forth on the seat, trying to make room. They move back into their original positions, never taking their eyes off her.

"Do you need us to do anything? Open the doors or windows?" Sam asked.

"Shhh," she responded softly.

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and raised her head. Her eyes moved under their lids and her left hand slowly rose, palm out in a "stop" motion. Her hand swept slowly in front of her from her far left to her far right before settling into her lap. She opened her eyes, blinked rapidly a few times and then smiled at them.

"It's clear," she said proudly.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, mentally preparing again. They opened the windows of the Impala before getting out and when Dean shut his door, he leaned down through his. Meranda shifted over toward the driver's side until they were face to face.

He slid his hand under her hair and, placing his hand on her neck, lightly stroked her face with his thumb. "You on keep listening, okay? If you hear _anything_, you call me on my cell, okay?"

She simply smiled and nodded. He kissed her deeply then pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. She raised her hand to his face and tenderly caressed him.

"Hurry up…I can barely wait to get you back home," she said seductively.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note:** _Characters - I still don't own 'em. Thanks AGAIN to PTB for the technical help. It may seem like nothing, but the devil's in the details. Please, read, enjoy and review! THANKS! :)

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_**Chapter 30**

Meranda did as Dean had instructed and continued to "listen". By doing so, she was able to follow their actions as well. Dean was in the room, dousing the walls, floors and beds with gasoline. Sam was in the house, walking through and splattering each room with fuel. He made sure to drench the body of the motel owner. He'd held his breath and managed to keep his dinner down, but just barely. They were perfectly synchronized despite the difference in the sizes of the buildings. Sam worked from the front to the rear of the house and Dean from the rear to the front of the room. Once the fires were lit, they met back up on the path to the access road and in seconds were back inside the car and on the road back to Meranda's house.

As soon as the area was no long visible in the rear view mirror, Dean cranked up the volume on the Impala's sound system and Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive" filled the car. They breathed a collective sigh of relief, but Meranda could feel their tension had risen back to fervid levels. Dean was doing his best to stay within the confines of the speed limit and Sam's right foot tapped nervously against the kick panel. Without asking, she took their hands in hers and quietly pulled some of the excess energy from them. Moments later, they were both calm and released dual sighs as they pulled into her garage, the door closing behind them before Dean got the key out of the ignition.

"If you don't mind, we're probably both gonna shower and wash these clothes. The smells are just too much," Sam said as he opened his door.

"I don't mind at all...like I said, _please_ make yourselves at home. The water's got a pressure valve on it so you can both shower at the same time if you want and not lose pressure."

Dean wondered vaguely when they'd ever been able to do that without staying in separate locations. Not that it mattered, but little things like that sometimes caught his attention and he may have given them a little more thought than they deserved. Their lives had been spent mainly in one crappy motel after another. Staying in a real house, with a real kitchen and more than one bathroom, to Dean, seemed like a luxury – one he wasn't really sure how to enjoy. He bet his brother would find humor in that as well since _Sam_ was always the one being told to enjoy things more. Knowing that it wasn't permanent might make it a little easier and he was definitely going to do his level best…maybe think of it as a vacation.

He was still pondering this thought as he began showering in the master bath. Meranda had promised to "whip something up" in the kitchen when she'd heard his stomach growling on their way into the house. They'd eaten a light dinner because they were all too stressed for anything heavy, but now that the worst had passed, Dean was famished. He and Sam had gone straight to the bedroom, gotten clothes to change into and headed for the showers. Usually they couldn't seem to get the smells of the work like that off their bodies fast enough, however using the soaps Meranda had made seemed to relax them. The second they opened the bottles, the rooms filled with smells of her. As they washed off the traces of gasoline, sulfur, decaying flesh and death, the anxiety of the evening seemed to flow off them and down the drain with the suds.

Emerging from the bathrooms at almost the same time, the first thing they noticed were the smells of food. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to identify the wonderful smells. He was sure he smelled hot wings and...quesadillas maybe? He met Sam in the hallway and they made their way to the living room together. On the coffee table sat two large platters and a snack tray. One platter was piled with hot wings, carrots, celery and two small dishes with what appeared to be blue cheese and ranch dressings in them. The other platter held stacks of quesadillas cut into perfect triangles and two more small dishes, one filled with salsa and the other with guacamole. The snack tray had fruits, cheese, crackers and sliced summer sausage. In the center of the tray was a small bowl of mustard and a tiny knife to spread it. There was a stack of small plates and napkins on the table as well. Beside the coffee table sat a cooler with ice, beer, water and sodas. A small trash can had been added to the opposite side of the coffee table. _Probably for bones_, Sam thought.

"Damn, Martha Stewart! How long were we in there?" Dean said jokingly.

"I don't get much company so when I do, I like to try to take care of them as best I can," she said, scarcely defending herself.

As they began preparing their plates, Dean tried to reassure her.

"Oh, I'm _definitely_ not complaining. I just wouldn't have thought you'd have time to do all of _this_. What, is speed another of your 'specialties'?" He chuckled as he pictured her racing around the kitchen at lightning speed.

"Yeah, um...what exactly _can_ you do? I mean, if you don't mind me asking," Sam said almost timidly.

Meranda laughed at both of them. "I told you, ask whatever you want..._really_!"

She waited until they were all seated and eating before she began.

"Well, you already know about the heightened senses, the cloaking and the soul marking abilities. I can give and take energy...but you already know that too. Oh, and thanks to Dean, I now know that I can also send pain…although, I'm not exactly sure how that can be a good thing."

Sam looked relatively surprised at both of them.

"What?" Dean asked. "I thought it was worth a shot and it worked," he said with a shrug.

Ignoring their banter, Meranda continued. "Hmm...let's see, I'm also what you might call clairvoyant. I can know whether a person's intentions are good or bad almost instantly."

"How does _that_ work?" Sam asked with open curiosity. "Do they look different somehow?"

"I guess you could say that. I've never really thought about how I know or what it is that tells me. I'll definitely have to pay more attention to that and let you know," she said honestly.

"Is that it?" Dean asked.

"No...I can um, reach out mentally I guess you'd say? And I can sense what and who's in my surroundings. Like tonight, while I was listening, I was able to follow your progress. I know that _you_ started at the back of the room while Sam started at the front of the office _and_ that you'd both speed up or slow down to stay in pace with each other. I also know that you struck the matches almost simultaneously, which, by the way, was somewhat freakin' impressive."

She giggled as she popped another grape into her mouth before continuing.

"If I've connected with a soul, I can feel what they feel."

Dean sucked the hot wing sauce from his fingers and wiped them on a napkin while these words sank in. Tossing his used napkin into the trash, he looked at her quizzically.

"So earlier, when I was pissed at Bobby?"

"I could feel it. And when you were both stressed out when we got the motel tonight, I could feel that too." She said it as though they were discussing any common, every day subject like the weather.

"Huh..." was all Dean could manage as he sat trying to figure out exactly what this meant.

"How many souls have you connected with?" Sam asked in an analytical tone that prompted Dean's brow to furrow and his eyes to snap to Sam's.

Meranda laughed a hearty, throaty laugh. "You know, under any other circumstances that question would almost seem rude...but I guess it's relevant." She sat thinking for a moment before answering. "I guess maybe two dozen over the last thousand years. All of them, with the exception of you two, have already left this world and the connection has only been mutual once." Her voice trailed off and she stared into the distance, willing herself to press forward with the truth no matter how painful it might be.

Seeing the confusion on their faces, she knew she needed to elaborate. "If a connection is mutual – something that's asked for, and the other person is open to connecting _too_, then _they_ are able to feel _me_ as well. The closer we are to each other in physical proximity, the stronger the we can feel each other's presence, emotions, feelings..."

"How long do these connections last?" Dean asked, unadulterated fascination on his face.

She looked into his questioning eyes and could see the turmoil swirling behind them. She took his hand in hers and smiled. "'Til death."

Sam and Dean sat in silence, both of them pondering different sides of the same coin. Sam finally spoke, his words barely above a whisper.

"That can't be easy, watching people you care about die like that."

"They were all so very unique…the emptiness left can't be filled, no more than any one of them could ever be replaced. But, I count myself lucky to have had so many special people in my life to share that affection and closeness with." She wore a smile that was both warm and sincere.

A calm silence fell over the room. They finished eating without saying another word, each of their minds racing down their own paths.

Sam wondered if these were all things she could control or if it was more like a curse, that once the switch was flipped it was on and that was it. He wondered how it worked, how it felt. If she _could_ control it, how long did it take her to learn or was it something instinctual? Why was she different than the others? Why was her mother? How much there was to learn!

Meranda hoped that they could understand and that they wouldn't be scared away. She knew it was one thing to kill a creature like her because it's evil, but it was something entirely different to try looking through the eyes of one that happens to be an exception to the rule and expect a true sense of compassion. There was no doubt that this was a lot to take in all at once…and the fact that it was barely the tip of the iceberg wasn't going to help.

Dean wanted a drink.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's note:**_ I still don't own these characters and of course, no infringement was intended. Read, enjoy and review. :)

* * *

_**Chapter 31**

When she stood and began picking up, they automatically joined her, working in tandem until everything was put away. The only words spoken were on task and even those were very few. With the kitchen and living room put back to rights again, Dean sat back down on the sofa as Meranda excused herself before leaving the room. Sam grabbed another beer and sat on one end of the couch.

"You okay," Sam asked his brother without looking at him.

"Dude, there are just _so_ many freakin' questions! It's like the more answers we get, the more questions we end up with," Dean answered, covering his face with his hands and rubbing his eyes.

"I know!" Sam agreed with much more enthusiasm than Dean would've liked.

Dean looked at him, brow furrowed, and shook his head. "Sammy, she's not some kinda science experiment! She's…" he paused trying to find the right words.

"I'm what?" Meranda asked, returning. Their heads snapped toward the sound of her voice, but no one answered.

She sat down between them, waiting for an answer. When she didn't get it, she decided that pushing for it really wasn't worth the risk. Dean would tell her if and when he was ready. And if he didn't, well, that was okay too. She lay down on the sofa, placing her head in Dean's lap, her knees bent, toes under Sam's leg. Sam slid his arm under her knees, lifted her legs then placed them on his lap. Dean brushed a strand of hair from her face and she closed her eyes at the warmth of his fingers on her skin. Sam stroked her shins gently and took a deep drink before asking her the question that had been on his mind these last few moments.

"The energy thing – taking and giving it – how does it work?"

"I just kinda visualize it. I _see_ myself giving or taking the energy as I'm actually doing it," she answered, her eyes still closed. She took Dean's hand that wasn't caressing her face in hers and kissed the back of it gently.

"What's it look like?" Sam asked curiously.

"Light…it looks like light…warm, blue light," her voice had taken on a dreamlike tone.

"Hey," Dean gently tapped her cheek with his thumb until she opened her eyes sleepily and looked at him. "How about we get some rest, huh? You wanna go to bed?"

"Why Mr. Winchester, you're so…forward," she said with a thick southern sleepy drawl, her eyes fighting to open.

"Yeah, that's me," he said smiling down at her. "Let's go sleeping beauty."

With that, he slid his arms under her and helped her to sit up. Sam took her legs from his lap and swung them so that her feet were on the floor.

She sat there a moment, trying to wake up. On her third try to get her eyes to stay open, she noticed their hands open in front of her and she placed hers in theirs. They helped her to stand and began leading her down the hallway. Once in her bedroom, she climbed up the small set of steps. Sam and Dean both smiled to themselves at the way she looked more like a child as she nestled into bed, rubbing her eyes, than a 1,000 year old human-demon hybrid.

Turning to leave, they stopped when she spoke.

"No…don't go…_please_," she pleaded.

They looked at each other then back to her. She had her hand outstretched to them. They didn't look back at each other, but if they had, they'd have seen they were wearing identical smiles. The only difference in them was the expressions in their eyes.

Stripping down to their boxers, Sam climbed in and over her to get to the opposite side. Dean climbed up and slid in beside her after turning off the light. She rolled over toward Dean and put her head on his chest, his arm around her, placing her back to Sam who without thought, spooned up behind her, his arm laying on the length of her body and his forehead against the back of her head. Dean put his lips to her forehead and he and Sam breathed in the scent of her hair together. Instantly they felt the comfort brought by that wonderful smell, coupled with the feel of her, protectively wrap itself around them. The contented sigh she released easily expressed the serenity that they all felt.

They lay there quietly, listening to each other's breathing as it became synchronized, their bodies readying them for sleep.

Meranda's voice sounded small in the darkness. "In case you were wondering, I've been doing my best to _not_ feel your feelings. It seemed like such an invasion of privacy. Besides, I'd rather find out the old fashioned way."

Dean hugged her a little closer and kissed her forehead again before releasing his own sigh of contentment.

With that, they quietly fell asleep and once again slept through the night.

Dean's sense of smell woke him. He lay there, eyes still closed, savoring the scents wafting down the hall and into the bedroom. Bacon! The only thing better to wake to was sex…or maybe sex _and_ bacon. As the thought floated through his mind, his hand felt for her, but instead found an empty spot in the bed beside him. Opening one eye, he scanned the bed from the point closest to him to furthest away where he found Sam, his back to him. Releasing a deep sighhe thought, _Why the hell couldn't Sammy be the one playing Betty Crocker?_ He only felt disconcerted until the fresh scent of brewing coffee drifted to him, urging him out of bed.

He made his way into the master bath and relieved himself. On his way through the bedroom, he noticed the bed was now empty. As he started toward the kitchen, he heard the door of the hall bath open behind him and knew Sammy was in the hallway behind him. Dean fleetingly thought about the connection she'd spoken of the night before and how he and his brother had always seemed to have that or at least a diluted version of it with each other – not necessarily the ability to know what the other is feeling, but knowing when the other one was near and whether or not they were okay.

As Dean reached the doorway of the kitchen, he slowed until she was in view and then stopped, just out of view, and watched her. She was placing a plate piled with bacon into the microwave over the stove. There was a pan on the stove with what would be scrambled eggs when she finished. In another pan he could see through the glass lid a mixture of shredded potatoes, red, orange and yellow peppers and mushrooms. He didn't have to see them, the smell of the biscuits in the oven was evident. He hadn't even realized that his eyes were shut until he heard her voice and opened them.

"Coffee or juice?"

"Coffee," he answered.

"Two," Sam said, suddenly appearing behind him, smiling.

She grabbed two cups from the cupboard and placed them in front of the coffee pot.

"There's sugar, cream or creamer if you'd like."

She went back to the pan of eggs and dragged the spatula through them, making room for them to fix their coffee. Once their coffee was poured, they offered their help. She let them know what needed to be done and let them decide who would do what while she finished the eggs.

Dean set the table while Sam began bringing the food that had already been prepared out to the dining room. Once everything was in place, they sat for breakfast and instantly took each other's hands and offered her their free ones for grace to be said. Taking their hands, she bowed her head and prayed aloud. This time they joined her in bowing their heads.

When she finished the prayer, they began preparing their plates and passing the different dishes around the table to each other. Sam and Dean made sure to let her know repeatedly how good everything looked and smelled and thanked her for preparing it.

"Really, it's my pleasure. I wish you knew how much I really am enjoying the company and having someone to do these things for," she said sincerely.

As they began to eat, Sam began thinking of ways to begin discussing some of the questions that had been plaguing his thoughts since his eyes opened that morning. Finally, he settled on the only way he knew – just ask.

"Um, last night, we were talking about the energy thing. You need energy like that, but also eat regular food and stuff. Doesn't _that_ give you energy?"

Dean stopped in mid-bite and looked across the table at Sam in disbelief. Sam merely lifted his hand, palm up, and mouthed the word, "What?" at him.

"I have to have the energy to feed the part of me that has all of these abilities. Sleep recharges the battery, the same as it does for my physical body, but when I use my 'talents' for extended periods, it runs both batteries down. Just like I need food to provide energy for my body to do certain things, that part of me needs energy, especially if I'm going to push those abilities to their limits."

They continued eating and as the brothers mentally chewed on this new information.

After a few minutes, Sam asked, "So how much of these abilities just happen and how much of it do you have to make happen?"

Dean resisted the urge to kick him under the table, partly because he thought it might upset her and partly because he wanted to hear the answer.

"You know, I don't know that I've honestly given it much thought. It seems though that I spend more energy making things _not_ happening – like _not_ listening in to your feelings or _not_ reaching out mentally when I feel something or someone enter my boundaries. My mind is always on alert. It's like this: I'm in the center of the perimeter and my mind automatically reaches out as far as it can go, whether it's 10 miles or 10 feet. If say a squirrel enters or moves inside of that limit, my mind picks up on it immediately and is tempted to go there to find out what it is and why it's moving. I have to reign it in and know from experience that by the size of the movement, it's not worth the effort."

"And what determines the size of the perimeter?" Sam asked, hanging on her every word.

"The amount of energy I have stored and the amount of energy I exert. The more of either, the further the reach."

"How does the whole energy thing work anyway? I mean, do the people you take it from just get tired or what?" Dean asked, joining the conversation.

"Generally, I only take from those who have excess – people who are stressed or nervous, hyperactive children and the like. But if I know I'm going to need it, like the night we met Soraya, I take it anywhere I can get it. That was one of the perks of the flea market."

The brothers' eyes met briefly before settling on her.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Meranda momentarily wondered if she should have left that part out, but she knew in her heart that they needed the truth and pressed forward. "Well, and please don't get angry with me when I tell you, when we went to the flea market, I took as much energy as I could from everyone we came into contact with."

They looked at other again, this time in confusion.

"What? _How_? I mean, you were between us the entire time," Sam said, his astonishment clear.

Her eyes dropped to her plate and she moved her eggs around with her fork in silence before answering.

"Through you two."

"Through us? I don't get it," Dean said.

"It was crowded and we all had people brushing up against us, but you two more than me since I was in the middle, so I…I took their energy through you."

They sat speechless as she continued to move her food around on her plate without eating it. Finally she put her fork down and looked at them.

"Well? Say _something_! I know that I shouldn't have done it, but I also didn't know if I was gonna be able to tell you what I am or if I was gonna be fighting Soraya alone. I needed everything I could get not only to make sure I was prepared for _that_, but to also be able to reach out far enough to know whether or not she was alone. If she hadn't been, I wasn't sure how I was going to proceed, but thankfully, it didn't come to that."

When neither of them responded, her eyes welled up with tears.

"I'm not like her…I'm _not_!" Her voice trembled as the tears began streaming down her cheeks. She pushed away from the table and went to her bedroom.

Dean glared across the table at Sam. "Way to go, Barbara Walters! What the hell?"

"'_What the hell_'? You're asking _me_ 'what the hell'? I was just thinking about the process and the control it would take for her to do that and not take energy from us at the same time. What was _your_ reason for not saying anything?"

Dean's brow furrowed deeper and his lips pursed as he pushed away from the table and started down the hallway. As he reached the hidden washer and dryer, he knew Sam was behind him.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's note:**_ I do not own these characters...blah, blah, blah...Guess who's back for a visit? *LOL* Read, enjoy and review! :)

* * *

_

**Chapter 32**

Dean stopped just outside the doorway. Meranda was lying across the bed facing away from him. He was relieved to see that she whatever crying she had been doing had either subsided or at least not gotten worse. Without a word, he made his way to the bed, climbed up onto it and lay beside her. He gently stroked her hair and felt her body shutter as she took in a sniffling deep breath and released it.

"I didn't _want_ to do it, but I felt I had no choice," she began.

"Shhh…" Dean whispered. He struggled to find the right words, but was fearful that his silence might be misunderstood again so he simply said what was on his mind. "I want you to stop blocking me...at least for a minute or two and see what I'm feeling."

She rolled over to face him, her eyes puffy, her face tear streaked and her brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

Dean looked into her eyes and nodded.

She took in another sniffling breath and placed her hand lightly on his face. She continued to look into his eyes as she gradually let down the barrier between them. Ever so slowly a smile began creeping its way onto her face. She closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, the tears that flowed from her this time were tears of happiness and solace.

Sam had been standing at the doorway and finally spoke up.

"Listen Meranda, I'm…I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just sometimes my mind runs off on its own tangents and, well…I _really_ didn't mean to upset you."

Without a word or a glance, Dean raised his hand and waved Sam away. Sam stood still a moment, trying to gauge whether or not he should ignore his brother and continue trying to smooth things over or walk away as he was being told. As if Dean knew he hadn't budged, he waved him away again, but this time with more urgency. So, Sam turned and walked out, closing the door behind him as he went.

They continued to lay there, Meranda being held and Dean holding her, feeling mutual relief. Finally, she pulled back to look at him again. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb and smiled at her.

"Hi," he said just above a whisper, looking into her eyes, his soft smile showing in his.

Smiling back at him, she responded. "Hi."

She began kissing him gently and as it deepened, she savored the taste of his soft warm mouth against hers, the smell and feel of his skin, the warmth of his body. She could feel his arousal as it began growing between them, pressing against her and she pulled away.

Dean looked at her, slightly confused. "You okay?"

She smiled and answered. "I'm fine. I just need you to understand some things before we go any further."

His eyes looked up in front of him as if he were pondering this thought before he responded. "Okay, what is it?"

She took in a deep breath before she continued.

"So far the one question that hasn't been asked is 'why sex' – as in 'why is _that_ when things like me strike or mark you'…aren't you even a little curious?"

Dean thought a moment. "Yeah, I guess so. I hadn't really had time to think about it. I've been busy processing everything else I guess."

"During sex, the soul is at its most vulnerable. Although people tend to think of the act itself as being mostly physical or emotional, they don't realize what actually happens." She saw his interest peak and continued. "During sex, your soul is opened to your partner – human or not. _This_ is why it's so important. It's not an act to be taken lightly. It was designed to allow two souls to connect…and well, let's face it – how many people do you want connecting to your soul?"

Dean blushed, suddenly realizing that he'd be hard pressed to recount all the women who'd had access to his.

Remembering her words from the night they confronted Soraya, he asked, "So...was it just a ritual to keep us safe?"

"With Sam, yes…but with _you_? No. I was glad that I could protect you with my touch, but I _wanted_ you. Not necessarily in the terms that you use the word." Now it was her turn to struggle for the right words. She released a deep sigh. "See, I can _see_ the good in you. It absolutely glows from within you. I _wanted_ to be bonded to you, to share in your light. I guess your friend Bobby would say that makes me as bad as Soraya."

"Fuck him."

"No thanks…jeez! I thought we'd covered that already," she said with feigned exasperation.

Dean was just beginning to laugh when there was a knock at the door.

"Go away, Sammy," he yelled.

From the other side of the door, Sam's voice was muffled, but clear. "I would, but um…well, Jackie's here."

Dean looked at Meranda whose face lit up instantly.

"Tell her we'll be right out," Meranda shouted toward the door, the smile on her face was distinct in her voice.

She quickly kissed him and smiled broadly. "Let's go," she said excitedly, quickly climbing over him and down the small set of steps. She stood waiting for him and when he stepped onto the floor, took his hand and started for the door. A few steps into their journey she realized that she was pulling him...almost dragging him. She stopped and turned to face him.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm just not up for getting reamed out by Dr. Bombay out there for not taking better care of you."

"What do you mean? You've taken _great_ care of me."

"Maybe you should look in the mirror before you call that your final answer."

Taking his advice, she went into the bathroom and looked at her reflection. Her face was tear streaked and her eyes red and puffy. It was obvious that she'd been upset and moved to tears by something.

"Hmm…" was all she muttered before moving to the tall cabinet and removing one of the vials. Picking up the hair tie still on the sink, she quickly tied her hair back. She turned on both the hot and cold water and ran her fingers under it, adjusting the knobs until it was the right temperature. She cupped her hands, bent and gently splashed her face with the water until she was satisfied with its coverage. She then opened the bottle, poured some of the thick liquid into her hands and began rubbing them together until a lather formed. Leaning over the sink again, she closed her eyes and rubbed the soap onto her face, scrubbing and covering it in the sweet smelling foam. After rinsing her hands, she cupped them again and splashed the water onto her face, rinsing it. She turned off the faucets and began wiping the excess water from her face with her hands when a towel came into view. She looked in the mirror and saw Dean holding it out to her. Their eyes met and they both smiled, saying what they felt without words.

She took the towel and dried her face and hairline, then inspected her handiwork in the mirror. No longer blotchy, her face had a delicate glow to it. Her eyes, although still slightly pink, were no longer swollen – the look of eyes not long awake. Her eyes met his in the mirror again. She smiled and winked at him before patting her hairline once more with the towel and starting for the door again.

Taking her hand again, just as her fingers were about to touch the doorknob, he faintly tugged, stopping her in mid-reach. She turned back to him and instantly his warm hand slid gently along her face to the back of her neck as he pulled her slowly closer. His soft, velvety lips gently caressed hers. She returned the kiss and deepened it.

Taking in a deep breath, she asked, "Ready?"

Dean rolled his neck from side to side then shook his free hand as if throwing off the stress before simply nodding. To say that his last encounter with this woman had been less than cordial might be considered an understatement. He knew that Sam was going to be itching to see round two and the last thing Sammy needed was more ammo to use against him.

"Sure," he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. He fought back the urge to add the fated words, "what could go wrong" knowing that would instantly curse the whole thing from the very beginning.

Once they were in the hall, they could see Sam and Jackie both sitting on the sofa. Jackie's back was to them but Sam saw them coming and Dean recognized the look of relief in Sam's eyes.

"Jackie! I wasn't expecting you until at least tomorrow at the earliest," Meranda's voice was cheerful and at the sound of it, Jackie turned to look at them.

She looked Dean up and down as if sizing him up for a fight, her gaze completely suspicious and mistrustful and only broke when Meranda took her hands.

"What brings you here so soon?"

She looked back at Dean and then at Sam before answering.

"Honestly? I wanted to make sure you were safe. These two don't look like they could keep a hamster alive for a week! Did you really think I'd trust them with you for more than a day or two without checking?" she scoffed.

Meranda simply shook her head and smiled. "Jackie, I'm fine...and _they're_ fine. They've done a great job so far and look." She pulled her shirt up to just above the bandage then pulled the bandage back slowly to reveal the almost completely healed wound underneath. "See? It's almost gone."

"Are you saying that you won't need them to stay the week as I instructed? From the looks of it, I'd say another day and you're going to be right as rain again," Jackie looked hopeful as she asked.

Meranda laughed. "No, I am _not_ saying that _at all_! Sam and Dean are _more_ than welcome to stay as long as they like...and to come back _anytime_ they want! Really, Jackie, you mustn't blame them for this," she said as she covered the almost non-existent wound with the bandage and pulled her shirt back down.

Dean wanted to point out that it was Bobby's fault, but knew that would open a whole new can of worms that he just didn't feel like dealing with. Besides, he was fairly certain that Jackie would be quick to remind him that Bobby was _their_ friend, not Meranda's which would lay the blame squarely at their feet once again. So instead he smiled a closed lipped smile and hoped he didn't look like the idiot he felt he did.

Sam sat quietly watching and, Dean would be willing to put money on it, waiting.

"Would you like something to drink?" Meranda offered.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay. I heard about the fire this morning and, well, I just needed to see you for myself," Jackie answered, doing what appeared to be her best not to insinuate accusations towards the brothers.

"Did you see it?" Meranda asked sounding almost giddy.

"I did. Almost a total loss. There's only one room left standing – the one closest to the road on the right hand side as you're pulling in," Jackie said in an oddly pleased tone.

Sam and Dean's eyes locked on each other, the uneasiness on their faces apparent. They weren't ones to discuss their business with others; especially others who were so clear in their disdain for them.

"Seems there was some sort of gas leak according to the fire chief," Jackie continued. "It's a shame that it didn't take out that eyesore they call a bar too."

Meranda smiled at her and winked. "Maybe next time."

Jackie looked at the two brothers one last time, but with a little less skepticism and a little more approval, before turning toward the front door.

"Well, my purpose here's been served. I need to get back home. Jimmy and Karen are bringing over the baby later today and I've still got to make sure I've child proofed at least one room...although, if you ask me, it's a waste of time. They just find something else to get into. We can't protect them from everything," she said as she made her way to the foyer. "If you need me, you've all got my number. Don't hesitate to use it."

With that, she let herself out.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's note: **_I do not own these characters. I hope you're enjoying this so far. Please, read, enjoy and review. :)

* * *

_**Chapter 33**

"Huh..." Sam said as the door closed behind Jackie. "Well, that was special."

"She's always been overprotective. I'm actually surprised that she was as cooperative as she was to you staying here, but I think she realizes you're not a threat. She tends to forget that I didn't get to be my age without some sense of judgment," Meranda said.

For a moment, Dean saw through Jackie's eyes and suddenly felt an odd appreciation for her.

"I feel safe with her on the case," Dean said sincerely.

Meranda and Sam looked at him with identical surprised expressions. There was no hiding their utter disbelief.

"What?" Dean asked defensively. "She's doing exactly what I'd do if I were in her place. I may not like being on this side of those laser beam eyes of hers, but I fully appreciate where she's coming from. Frankly, I can't think of anyone else I'd want on the job." His tone and demeanor told them that this was nothing less than the truth.

"Huh..." Sam grunted once again.

"'Huh' what?" Dean asked. "You think I'm wrong?"

"No, no...I just think it's a little unlike you to jump ship so quickly, that's all."

"That's the thing, Sammy – I'm _not_ jumping ship. I just realize that we're on the _same_ frickin' ship and maybe Jackie needs to realize that too."

Sam clutched his chest and gasped for air, faking a heart attack. "Oh…my…_GOD_ Dean! _You_ are perilously close to acting like an adult!"

Dean eyes narrowed just before he delivered a punch to Sam's arm that made it go numb from his shoulder to his fingertips after an ice pick pain shot straight through to his bones, but his hearty laughter showed no signs of the pain or discomfort.

"Dick..." was all Dean muttered as he made his way into the dining room. He picked up his plate, took it to the kitchen where he popped it into the microwave and waited for it to heat up.

In the living room, Meranda smiled at Sam rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she walked to the kitchen. Dean was leaning against the counter across from the microwave watching his plate rotate inside of it. She put her feet on either side of his and leaned on his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Well, just for the record, I for one am _thrilled_ that you feel that way. It's not a great place to be when two people you care about are at odds with each other," she said amiably.

Dean kissed the top of her head just as the microwave announced that his plate was ready. She stood and kissed him softly.

"I'm gonna go shower and tend to this," she said, pointing to her side, on her way out of the kitchen. "I didn't wanna say anything to Jackie, but this'll be healed before midday."

Dean just smiled and nodded before walking back into the dining room and sitting down. Sam was already at the table drinking his juice. As he ate, Dean let his mind review some of the things Meranda had said before they were interrupted. She'd said that during sex the soul is not just vulnerable, but _most_ vulnerable and that it's not just physical or emotional, but was actually designed for souls to connect. Hadn't she also said that she'd only had one mutual connection in over a thousand years?

"DEAN!" Sam's voice was loud and commanding, breaking his concentration.

"_What?_" Dean demanded, thoroughly pissed off that his train of thought had been derailed.

"Dude, I've been sitting here talking to you for like five minutes now and you've not even blinked. What the hell's going on with you?"

Dean did his best to regain his composure before answering.

"Just thinking about some things. Why? What's up?"

"I was wondering if maybe you might wanna call Bobby today. See if things with him can be smoothed over a little."

"Isn't _he_ the one that needs to be doing the smoothing?" Dean shot back at him, his temper escalating again, but in a whole new direction.

Sam took in a deep breath and released it. "I guess I was just hoping that since you had such a revelation with Dr. Quinn earlier you'd be on board with continuing the whole 'adult' thing and call him."

Dean thought about shutting him down with a simple, "Leave me the hell alone," but Meranda's most recent words of wisdom ran through his head and he decided he'd give him a more than a simple brush off.

"First, the thing with the doc is completely different. We're on the same side, she just doesn't quite see it yet. Second, she didn't hurt Meranda, she helped her. And third, Bobby's jackassery is still a little too fresh for me to deal with right now. Give me a chance to see her healed completely and then we can talk about it, but until then," Dean shook his head, "it's off the table."

Sam gave a tight-lipped nod as if to say, "Fair enough." There was absolutely no sense in pushing the issue.

"What did you wanna do today?" Sam asked, knowing that the change of subject would be welcomed.

Dean looked blandly at him from across the table. Before she had explained the ramifications of the act, Dean would've been all about finishing what had been started with Meranda. Now, he had a lot to think about and sort through – things that he'd rather not share with his brother...at least not at the moment.

"I don't know. I thought I'd play it by ear, see how she feels. I'd like to get out of the house if at all possible...even if it's just for a walk in the yard."

Finished with the meal, they both began cleaning up the table and carrying things into the kitchen.

"A little fresh air and sunshine _does_ sound good."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't go gaying it up...I just think a little of the outdoors will do us all some good."

Sam sighed loudly and shook his head as he continued to clear the table.

They finished cleaning the dining room and kitchen and had moved to the living room when Meranda appeared at the end of the hallway. Her hair was still damp, but she looked completely refreshed. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a "Save Ferris" t-shirt. Sam and Dean saw it at the same time and chuckled.

"Great movie!" Sam said.

"It's one of my favorites...obviously," she said, pointing at her shirt.

"That kid was a freakin' genius! And his sister? Damn!" Dean said enthusiastically.

They both looked at him and shook their heads.

"Just sayin'..." he added.

He took in a deep breath and did the only thing he could think of...he changed the subject.

"Hey, you up for a little outside time today?"

"What did you have in mind?" she replied, answering his question with one of her own.

"I dunno...nothing major. I was just thinking about getting outside … putter around in the yard a little maybe. I know you say that'll be healed by midday, but I'd rather see you take it easy…at least until it's had a day of being healed, you know?"

Meranda looked at him and smiled. "Well your tactics are a lot more pleasant than Jackie's, I'll give you that."

"Well, he _does_ always get to be the 'good cop'," Sam said jokingly.

Dean cut his eyes at his brother who only widened his grin before asking, "Putter?"

"Call me skeptical, but I'd like to see it healed for myself…if you don't mind," Dean said, wishing they could just skip the part where Sam would get ammunition to taunt him with. He looked from Sam to Meranda and when his eyes met hers, he was reminded that he would have to make some serious decisions in the very near future. It was then that he decided he would have to make time to talk with Sam…_really_ talk and soon.

Still looking into Dean's eyes, she replied, smiling, "That's actually perfect. I've got a lot of things that I've neglected over the last few days. Since they're things I already enjoy doing, they'll be that much more enjoyable with company…especially _this_ company."

"Gimme a few minutes? I need to finish getting dressed," Dean said.

"Yeah, me too," Sam added.

"Oh good…that must mean you're gonna do something about that stench of yours," Dean replied, pushing Sam as he walked past him on his way to finish dressing.

"Stench…" Sam said, with that 'yeah, right' attitude. But as Dean entered the hallway, Sam lifted his arm, smelled under it and shrugged.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:**_ I do not own these characters. I hope if you've gotten this far that you're still enjoying the story. I'd love to hear what you think so far - good, bad or indifferent so please, read, review and enjoy! :)

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_**Chapter 34**

As Dean entered her bedroom, he saw that she'd taken the time to make the bed when she came back to bathe. He had a slight stab of guilt when he noticed that his dirty clothes had been taken out of the room. He grabbed his toiletries and went into the bathroom. Seconds later, Sam entered the room, got his personal bathroom items and went into the hall bath. Meranda opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled a magazine from it before climbing the small set of steps and onto the bed. She lay down on her unwounded side and began flipping through the pages.

Before she knew it, Sam was standing in front of her, craning his neck to see what she was reading. As if on cue, Dean entered as she turned it so that he could see the article's title.

"What are you girls reading," Dean asked smugly.

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing that the fact that it was a Cosmopolitan magazine _and_ an article titled "20 Things to Drive Him Wild" was only going to fuel _that_ fire.

"Nothing important," Meranda said, closing it so that the back cover was showing and tossing it on the bedside table face down. "You ready?" she asked, moving into position to get down.

Sam gave her an indebted smile and offered her his hand. She took it, giving him a knowing smile and wink as she did. The brothers started for the bedroom door, but she rounded the end of the bed and walked toward the back wall. Pausing before stepping into the hallway, they looked back at her. She was standing beside what they had assumed was a large window, but when she opened the curtains that enshrouded it, she revealed a sliding glass door that opened onto a wooden patio and beyond that, a backyard paradise.

As they stepped out onto the patio, Sam and Dean were speechless. The backyard was huge with an eight foot wooden fence encompassing it. The patio held a large wrought iron gazebo with mesh netting that had been tied open. Tiny white lights had been woven through the wrought iron filigree design on the legs and underside. It covered a round glass table with four chairs and four large potted plants in each corner.

A flagstone path led from the wooden patio to the far corner of the yard where there was a large water feature complete with waterfall and surrounded by a perimeter of stones and plants in various shapes, sizes and colors. The path continued from the water to circle a large section in the middle of the yard where it meandered through a fair sized walking garden filled with flowering shrubs, trees and bushes. It was sprinkled throughout with bird baths, bird feeders, bird houses, benches, gazing balls and other yard art. Speakers and lighting could be seen slightly hidden throughout the yard.

The grass was lush and green. There were apple, cherry and lemon trees along one side of the fence and adjacent to those were a line of red crepe myrtles. Against the back of the house were blueberry bushes and more flowering plants that surrounded a large bench swing. Nestled into the corner of the house and fence on the opposite side of the yard was a small shed that looked like a tiny cottage. It had a small covered porch on the front of it and ivy growing up one side.

"Wow! This is just..." Dean started.

"Beautiful!" Sam finished.

"_This_ is my outdoor sanctuary. It's where I go when I need to unwind or think about things or just wanna feel at peace. I usually fill the feeders several times a week, but I've been slack lately," Meranda said, starting toward the little shed.

"Do you mind if I," Sam began, pointing to the water feature.

"Not at all," Meranda laughed. "_Please_ make yourselves at home."

Sam headed off to check out the water feature and Dean continued with her to the shed.

"You'll have to cut us a little slack in the 'make yourselves at home' department," Dean said. "Home for us is usually wherever we happen to be at the time. I'm told that can make for some uh…_less than desirable_ habits."

She smiled at him as she opened the shed door. "Home doesn't have to be a permanent residence, Dean. It's wherever you can feel comfortable being yourself. And I'd _really_ like for this to be one of those places...for both of you."

She didn't wait for him to respond before entering the shed. Dean followed her, curiously looking at the interior of the small building. Hanging on one wall were several garden tools and a shelf that was obviously for planting as it held stacks of pots in different sizes and was littered with potting soil. Along the back wall were several pieces of thin rope stretched from one side of the shed to the other. Plant clippings were hanging upside down from them in various stages of what appeared to be a drying process. She checked a few of these by gently touching and squeezing them before moving to the side opposite of the potting bench where a small red wagon sat in front of three covered bins. Removing the lids, she took out a small bucket filled with seeds from inside each of them and sat them one by one into the wagon.

Dean bent and took the cool steel wagon handle into his hand and looked at her, hopeful. She thought about arguing with him over not needing help with such a menial task, but the hopeful look in his eyes was enough to squash any argument she had. She smiled, grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, quickly kissing him before turning and exiting the shed.

Dean followed her and instantly felt ridiculous pulling the little red wagon behind him. Without delay, his eyes began searching for Sam, knowing that this was the things verbal darts were made of. Sam however was still distracted at the water. He was leaning over one of the larger rocks, putting his fingertips slowly into the water before quickly pulling them out again.

_Oh good_, Dean thought with relief, _he's got his own little fucked up thing going on._

He continued to follow Meranda into the walking garden, stopping at each feeder and filling them from the buckets in the wagon. At the fourth feeder, as she reached out to grab it, a tiny yellow bird landed on the bush in front of her and began fiercely chirping.

Dean drew back his hand, going with his first instinct that told him to swat it away, but Meranda held up her hand just as he was about to carry through with his swing and he stopped, looking more like he was swearing in than about to hit anything.

"I know…I know…I'm sorry," Meranda said, taking down the feeder and filling it. "I'm sorry...I know you have a family to look after. I'll put something extra out this week to make up for it." She replaced the feeder and the bird instantly hopped onto it and began eating. Without another word, Meranda began moving to the next empty feeder.

"Did you just have a conversation with that _bird_?" Dean asked incredulously, looking at the bird as if it were about to quote Shakespeare while he continued to follow her.

"Not in the sense that you're thinking, Dean," she said laughing. "I've been here for a _very_ long time and these birds have lived here for generations. She's got a nest over there in the blueberry bushes with three hungry babies." She pointed to the bushes against the house. "Those babies will grow up and move on and she'll have another batch next year and _they'll_ move on and so on and so on. Every once in awhile though, typically at the end of the mother's life cycle, one or two of those babies stay and raise _their_ families here. Needless to say, they've gotten rather used to me over the years."

Dean quickly ducked to one side as he felt the wind and heard the sound of the bird flying by him on its way back to its nest.

"Looks like she's not spooked by company either," he said straightening back up.

"What can I say? She trusts my judgment," Meranda said, laughter still in her voice.

"Huh…the bird's got more sense than your friend, but some of the same manners."

An infectiously cheerful laugh erupted from her and when he found himself laughing with her, he realized that something was different. He was feeling something he'd felt before in the last few days – that sense of being safe. He could feel the stress melting inside him like an ice cube on a hot day…it was relaxing, exhilarating and scary.

Dean stood in front of her laughing with her, but his eyes…his eyes showed unrest. There was a turbulence in them that pained her to see. Her laughter died down to a smile and she moved a little closer to him. Placing her hand behind his head, she placed her forehead on his as he leaned toward her. After her own internal battle of whether or not to listen in to his feelings, she whispered, "Can I?"

Dean simply nodded and she closed her eyes. They stood there like that for almost a minute before she lifted her head and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead.

"Come on…we've still got to feed the fish," she said, taking his hand in hers.

They finished going through the walking garden, filling bird feeders and checking bird baths. After putting up the buckets and the wagon, they went to join Sam. He was still looming over the water, but instead of dipping his fingertips into it, he was dragging them across the top. Stepping up to the rocks beside Sam, the large koi could clearly be seen. It almost appeared as though they were letting Sam pet them.

"You wanna feed 'em?" Meranda's asked, her words breaking through to wherever Sam's mind had been.

He looked up at her with the excitement of a child in his eyes. "Sure...just tell me what I need to do."

Stepping cautiously to the other side of the pond, she lifted the long thin leaves of one of the larger plants and uncovered a medium sized plastic box. She lifted the lid and filled the small cup that was inside with the tiny round pellets it contained then handed it to Sam who stood waiting for instruction.

She reached into the box and grabbed a small handful of the same pellets, held her hand over the water and as she released them, slowly swept her hand away from her, scattering them. The fish greedily rushed to the soft _plink! _sound the pellets made as they hit the water.

"Just like that," Meranda said smiling at Sam whose eyes openly displayed his unadulterated fascination.

Sam looked in the cup then back to her. "All of it?"

Her smile broadened and she nodded. "All of it."

As she made her way back to the other side, Sam scooped a small handful out of the cup and did exactly as he'd seen Meranda do just moments before. The fish once again rushed to the new location, their mouths coming completely out of the water in search of more once they'd eaten what was available. Sam took a cursory glance at his brother and, after taking another small handful, held the cup in Dean's direction offering him some.

Dean put his fingers in the cup and slid a small portion against the side of it up and out into his hand. Straddling the large rock in front of him, Dean sat and instead of scattering the pellets like he'd watched Sam and Meranda do, he dropped a few in and waited. The fish darted to where the few pellets had landed and quickly devoured them before poking their mouths through the surface in search for more. As their mouths popped up and opened into perfect O's Dean took single pellets between his thumb and forefinger and began trying to gently toss them directly into their mouths. Just as he perfected his technique, he used the last of the pellets he had. He looked to Sam as he was dumping the last of the cup's contents into his own hand.

Meranda, who had been perched on the rock next to Dean quietly watching them, stood up, took the empty cup and put it away.

"You guys thirsty?" she asked as she worked her way back to the other side of the pond.

"Yeah, but I can go get drinks," Sam said. "What would you guys like?"

"The cooler's still packed if you wanna just bring it out," Meranda suggested.

Without responding, Sam brushed his hands off, first together then on his pants as he made his way into the house.

Dean brushed his hands together over the water, knocking off any pellet residue, then stood and wiped them on his pants as well. His attention turned from the water to her as he realized she was staring at him, the smile on her face brought one to his.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing...it's just 'relaxed' is a good look for you," she replied.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure...anything you want," she answered, skipping over the fact that she'd already told both of them numerous times to feel free to ask her anything.

"How much of this relaxed feeling is you and how much of it's real?"

Meranda looked a little taken aback by the question. "It's _all_ real."

Dean looked away from her, his eyes searching the distance as if the answers were waiting there.

"And what about..._us_?" he asked hesitantly without looking at her.

"All of that's real too," she said. "I've not used any mojo in _that_ department since I put Bobby down that night. I figured if I was gonna confess, I could stop using it too. If you knew about Soraya, then you'd be more help _not_ under that power."

Dean thought back to that night and tried hard to remember if there was a point that he felt anything different, any sort of change at all. Nothing stood out for him, except for Bobby's encounter with Soraya which had only been momentary, but had lasted several hours. Maybe prolonged contact made the effects last longer?

Seeing the confusion on his face, Meranda offered, "The fact that you worry about what Sam thinks is proof that it's not me. And remember when you got upset with me after I mentioned Bobby? Also proof. If it were _me_, you'd be blind to your own cares and concerns _and_ to everyone else's. You'd take whatever I said as the gospel and never think twice about it. I told you already, I don't wanna be surrounded by puppets."

Dean began pondering this when Sam appeared carrying the cooler. He sat it on the table, took out a bottled water and sat in one of the chairs.

Meranda walked past the table to a small panel on the wall just outside the sliding glass door. Opening it, she pressed two buttons and instantly the yard filled with the sound of Stevie Nicks and Don Henley singing "Leather and Lace".


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's note:**_ Still don't own them...damn it! *LOL* Read, enjoy and please, review! :)

* * *

_**Chapter 35**

Dean grabbed a beer from the cooler, popped the cap off and took a deep drink. This whole "feelings" thing was _not_ his cup of tea and he wanted nothing more than to get shitfaced and not think about it. However, he knew without a doubt that this wasn't an option.

Meranda opened a bottle of water and drank almost half of it without stopping.

"Thirsty?" Sam asked in amazement.

"Not anymore," she joked.

She put the bottle on the table and walked to the edge of the patio where rows of plants overlapping each other grew and knelt beside them. She ran her hand over and under several of them, checking their leaves and flowers carefully.

"Aren't those the same plants you've got hanging in the shed?" Dean asked.

"They _are_," she answered as she continued inspecting each plant.

"That's hemlock, isn't it?" Sam asked pointing to one of the plants, its tiny white flowers standing out against its red stalks.

"Yep...hemlock, boneset, rue, valerian and balsam," she said as she pointed to each one.

"Witchery plants," Sam said, the interest in his tone was apparent.

"Uh...I guess you could call them that. I use them to make the potions, lotions, salves and soaps that I use – all in the name of good health, mind you. Some of the modern health food stores sell valerian right on the shelves. It's in pill form of course and has a bunch of useless junk added to it so it doesn't work as well as it does in pure form," she pointed out.

"What's it used for?" Dean asked.

"Lots of things – insomnia, anxiety, headaches and various other aches and pains" she said, listing off a few.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to get some sleeping pills, Xanax and aspirin?" he asked.

"_Easier_? Probably," she said nodding. "Better? Definitely not," she shook her head.

"Dean tells me that there was some sorta 'good witch' that taught you this stuff," Sam said. "Are there other things out there that aren't following their predestined path of dark shit?"

She took in a deep breath before answering. "First, can we come up with another term besides '_things_'? Personally, I kinda find it a little offensive."

"Sorry…I didn't mean anything by it, really," Sam said sincerely. "Are there other…_beings_ out there that go against their nature?"

"Of course, we all get together on Halloween and play charades," she said brightly before breaking into laughter. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. Seriously though, it's not like we have a social network, although I _can_ tell you that we seem to find each other somehow."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"It's just that our paths always seem to cross eventually. In my lifetime, I've met well over a hundred others...at least. Maybe it's because we all end up with the same agenda – helping others. Who knows? Maybe there _are_ others out there doing good things besides helping the sick."

Sam and Dean sat in silence, letting what she'd just divulged sink in. Dean tried to figure out what other good they could possibly do, but there was just too much for him to get his head around. Quite honestly, if someone had told him a week ago that there was even a remote chance of the things they hunt having some sort of subcategory that went against everything he knew about them, he'd have been convinced they were either crazy or possessed…or possibly both!

Sam's mind kept repeating one particular part of what she'd said, "well over a hundred others". In the course of a thousand years, even if she'd only met a hundred of them, that's an average of one every ten years…and she had said "_well over_ a hundred". His mind raced with so many possibilities that he closed his eyes in an effort to slow them.

Meranda took a seat between them and slid down into it, her legs out straight, head back and eyes closed, waiting for them to recover. She reminded herself, yet again, that what was common knowledge for her was potentially earth-shattering news for them. It was at this point that she realized what a great exercise in patience this had turned out to be and was quietly grateful for the opportunity. After the first few hundred years or so, it's easy to forget that there's always room for personal growth.

Letting go, she allowed herself to get lost in the music. Suddenly, Dean's unique and wonderful scent filled her senses and she opened her eyes to find him leaning over her from behind her chair. His warm, soft lips touched her forehead and a contented whimper escaped her throat.

"You wanna go inside sleeping beauty?" Dean placed bookend kisses at the beginning and end of the question on her forehead.

"Sleeping? Was I asleep?"

"Like a lumberjack," Dean teased as he stood up. "Birds were falling out of the sky you were snoring so loud." He did his best to keep a straight face, but ultimately failed miserably.

Her eyes narrowed and a smile slowly crept to her face as he began laughing.

"What time is it," she asked, after trying to judge from the sky which was too overcast to give any clues.

"It's just after five," he answered. "Sammy's checking out what's in the fridge to make for dinner."

"I took out pork chops last night. They should be thawed enough for dinner."

Dean wasn't sure if pork was on Sam's repertoire, but if it wasn't, he had to assume it was in hers, otherwise she wouldn't have bought it, right? As he was debating this, she got to her feet and turned to face him.

She yawned and, raising her arms over her head, began stretching. Dean stepped forward, placed his hands on her back and, applying pressure, pushed them up from her waist to her shoulders. She let out a squeal of pleasure as she continued to stretch. As she brought her arms down around his neck, he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss the nape of her neck. He longed to hear her breath catch in her throat, to see her eyes burn with passion, to feel her under him.

"We should probably go see if he needs help, don't you think," Dean suggested, suddenly trying his best to regain his composure.

She flashed a knowing smile at him and winked before nodding in agreement. Pausing long enough to turn off the music, they went inside and headed for the kitchen where they found Sam. The refrigerator door was open and he was squatting in front of it. The pork chops were on the counter beside it along with several other ingredients. He looked up at them and smiled.

"Hey, do you have garlic," Sam asked.

"No, I'm allergic to it...I forgot to tell you that I'm also part vampire," she said without blinking.

Sam's eyes widened slightly and she could see the wheels turning as he tried to gauge whether or not she was taunting him. After several seconds, she finally winked at him and the relief he felt visibly washed over him.

"Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the chair," Dean asked, his relief quickly covered with sarcasm.

Meranda cut her eyes at him and gave him a sly smile, but didn't say anything in response. Instead, she turned her attention back to Sam.

"I think it's in the door," she said, this time with a smile. She stepped behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as she made her way to the other side of the fridge.

She began taking down a glass and paused. "Anyone else want a drink?"

"I'll take a glass of juice, if you don't mind," Sam said, pulling more items from the fridge.

Dean thought about asking if she had anything harder than beer, but he'd already decided that he needed to have a serious sit-down with Sam and as much as he knew it would "loosen his tongue" he also knew that it might have an adverse affect on the outcome. No, he needed to be sober and coherent...damn!

He'd considered talking with Sam while she slept, but that meant either leaving her there or talking in front of her and asleep or not, that just made it weird. Now it looked like he was going to have to make time after dinner. He hoped that Sam would have the good sense God gave a goose, as Bobby liked to say, and go along with stepping outside with him without making it awkward as he sometimes had a knack for.

"Dean? Would you like anything?" Her voice sounded far away to his ears.

"Huh? Yeah, juice sounds good," Dean said, his mind clearly somewhere else.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's note:**_ I do not own these characters...but I'm having a great time with them! Read, enjoy and review! :)

* * *

_**Chapter 36**

Dean did his best not to be antsy, but it just wasn't in his nature. Finally, after snapping at Sam for the third time over something trivial, he gave Sam the head-tilt/eye-point combo that clearly said, "I need to talk to you _alone_ and somewhere other than here."

Meranda had been helping Sam in the kitchen while Dean leaned in the doorway pretending to watch. In actuality his mind, heart and gut were having an argument and his focus had been in a whirlwind trying to keep up. He knew he was going to have to vent some of what had been building or risk looking like a lunatic when something stupid like another innocent look from Sam set him off...again.

"Meranda, do you mind taking this over? It seems I need to have a chat with my brother," Sam asked, doing his best not to let his aggravation with Dean cause him to be short with her.

"Of course! You two take your time. These have got quite a while to go," she said with a genuine smile.

Sam excused himself from the kitchen with a smile and nod and met Dean in the living room.

As soon as Dean saw him step from the kitchen, he started for the hallway and Sam, naturally, followed. He led them through her bedroom and back out onto the patio where he closed the sliding glass door behind them. Sam flipped the switch closest to the door and the lights on the gazebo came to life, casting a soft white glow on the table beneath it.

"What's up?" Sam asked, his brow creased with concern.

"Sit down, Sammy," Dean said, taking a seat himself.

Sam's concern grew as he sat in the chair he'd been in less than an hour ago. "You okay? You're starting to worry me a little."

"I dunno, Sam," he confessed. "I've got some big decisions to make and I feel like time's closing in on me, you know?"

"No, Dean. I don't know. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Meranda. She explained something to me and it kinda changes everything," Dean replied vaguely.

"Dude, I need more than that. She told you something...like what?"

"Like every time I've ever gotten laid, I've given open, unfettered access to my _soul_ to whoever happens to be with me at the time...and as fucked up as that seems, I can kinda get a handle on _that_. But, Meranda..." he fell silent, his eyes troubled as if he were inching along the thin ledge of a mountainside that might give way at any moment.

Sam knew that he could easily just pretend that he didn't know what was eating at his brother and watch him suffer longer, but it was almost painful to watch even _this_ much. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and searched for the right words to open the dialog.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you're thinking maybe you've got real feelings for her. Am I right?"

"Well that's _part_ of the problem. I don't know if what I'm feeling is really me or part of what she is! She says that she's not affecting the way I feel, but how do I know for sure?" Dean's exasperation was palpable.

Sam smiled at him, but it was clear that he was holding back a chuckle. "Are you even _listening_ to yourself, Dean? If it were _her_ causing you to have these feelings, you wouldn't question them at all! _Hello!_ Succubus? It's what they _do_, Dean!"

Dean just looked at him while rolling Sam's words around in his mind. She'd said the same thing so at the very least he could take comfort in the fact that Sam had just confirmed it for him. Bottom line was, this meant that he really _did_ feel these things for her which, quite to his dismay, didn't necessarily solve his problems. It actually opened a whole new set of them…just fucking peachy! Now not only did he have to deal with The Feelings – the very thought of the phrase made his skin crawl and his stomach knot up – he would also have to deal with all the _new_ issues that were waiting to attack and potentially destroy him behind a door marked "What Now".

"Dean, breathe," Sam said, seeing the sheer panic in his brother's eyes. Fleetingly, he thought of how ironic it was that he'd seen his big brother charge at and kill things that would make most men cower in a corner, crying and pissing their pants, yet something as natural as having feelings for a woman had him quaking in his boots. He couldn't help but feel sorry for him, but at the same time, he also knew that this was something Dean was going to have to deal with. More importantly, he knew that _Dean_ knew and he had come to Sam for support.

"I promise you, Dean, it's _not_ as bad as you're making it out to be," Sam said, hoping to offer a measure of solace.

"I don't think you get it, Sammy. If I have feelings for her, I'm gonna wanna _feel_ her and in order to do that, I give her access to my soul."

"Dean, it's no different than before you knew, is it?"

"But it _is_ different Sam! I…" his voice cracked and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I've been thinking about making the connection with hers. I've given quite a lot of thought actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Christ on a cracker, Sammy! Did you not pay attention to _anything_?"

"Enlighten me," Sam said.

"She said that the connection has only been mutual once," Dean replied, looking hopeful that this would explain it enough that he wouldn't need to go further. But Sam just continued to look at him as though none of this was ringing any bells for him. It was times like this that something in Dean's gut told him Sam was playing him, that he knew, but wanted to see Dean suffer anyway. Of course, he couldn't exactly prove that theory so he did the only thing he saw as an option – he pushed forward.

"I've thought about…about making it _twice_," Dean said, almost angrily.

Sam didn't say anything in return, but his face said that his silence was from shock and not to annoy. This was _big_ for Dean…hell, "big" was the understatement of the year. It was incredibly momentous and absolutely _not_ what Sam was expecting. Sam had believed that Dean was in this panic because he simply didn't know how to deal with having feelings for her. He had no idea that it ran so deep. This could actually be viewed as sort of a commitment since Dean would actually be able to _feel_ her very soul. Without malice, Sam felt just the slightest tinge of envy. That act would have to be the closest two people could possibly get without becoming one single being. What would _that_ be like?

"Say _something _damn it! Am I losing my mind here? I mean, is this crazy?" The desperation in his voice and in his eyes had escalated.

"Dean, I'm just…I dunno…shocked I guess. I mean, I'm happy for you, but I just wasn't expecting it, is all," Sam offered honestly.

"Yeah, well if _you_ weren't expecting it, how do you think _I _feel? I mean, everything about her just feels…_right_ somehow. I can't explain it. And it's like my mind keeps saying things like, 'she's only _half_-human', but my heart keeps saying, 'I don't care, I wanna be with her' and my gut is saying, 'it's okay, just make a decision', but I don't know _what's_ okay or _what_ to decide!" He put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. He began rubbing his eyes as though he believed if he did it long enough he could get the answer to appear. When it didn't work, he rested his forehead in his palms.

"Do _you_ feel anything for her, Sam?" Dean's voice was slightly muffled.

Sam thought a moment and then answered. "I _do_ but not like what you're feeling. I mean, I _like_ her…and I'd _definitely_ protect her. She still makes me feel safe, which I'll admit I find a little odd, but I like it enough not to question it too much. You wanna know my theory on the subject?"

"Yeah, Dr. Strangelove, let's hear it."

"Alright, _I_ think that her power intensifies feelings, not create them. I think that she basically put our emotions on the 'fast track' so to speak. This is where we'd be, emotionally, if given enough time. I think what we feel _is_ real and it's actually the time frame we're having the trouble with."

Dean let this idea wash over him and, surprisingly, found it to be rather calming. For some odd reason, it brought to mind her wound and the way that it had taken mere days to heal to a point that should've taken weeks.

Sam watched the panic on Dean's face and in his eyes subside and relaxed a little himself. "Well?" he asked, hoping to get a verbal confirmation.

"Yeah…okay…that makes sense, I guess," Dean finally responded. He'd wanted to think it through one more time before committing to it and despite using a wavering phrase like "I guess", for Dean this was a commitment.

"So, when are you gonna tell _her_," Sam asked with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, as if he knew he was breaking bad news to Dean.

Dean released a deep sigh, looked down at the table and slowly shook his head.

"You _are_ gonna tell her, right? I mean, if my theory's right, is this something that you can struggle with another four or five days without dealing with it? Because that's what we agreed to," Sam reminded him.


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's note: **_I do not own these characters and no copyright infringement is intended. Please read, review and enjoy!

* * *

_**Chapter 37**

"I need a little time alone," Dean said without looking at Sam.

"Sure," Sam said, getting up and leaving him there. As he closed the sliding glass door behind him, he looked at Dean and noticed that although the panic was gone from his eyes, he was still troubled and obviously doing his level best to work through it.

As he approached the hallway, Sam's senses came alive with the combination of smells emanating from the kitchen and his belly grumbled. It wasn't until then that he realized they'd skipped lunch. Rounding the corner, he found Meranda at the sink washing some of the bowls and utensils they'd used in preparation and he silently slid back into position at the stove.

"Everything okay," Meranda asked, hopeful, still washing dishes.

"Yeah," Sam said with confidence. Although Dean hadn't told him his final decisions on everything, he knew that ultimately he really was going to be okay. It was a lot like accidentally cutting yourself – it hurts worse when you see it for the first time, you're convinced that it's worse than it really is, but more often than not, in the end it turns out to be a superficial flesh wound that will heal with minimal scarring.

They continued to work in relative silence, concentrating on the tasks at hand. Meranda and Sam were caught up in the making of dinner when Dean appeared in the doorway again. He had taken up the same position he'd been in before he left, but this time he seemed more…_there_. Sam cut his eyes at his brother who gave him a slight smile and nod.

When it looked like they were wrapping things up in the kitchen, Dean began setting the table. They sat through dinner exchanging small talk and cheerful banter. Dinner flowed seamlessly into clean-up and the next thing they knew they were discussing how to pass the evening.

Finally, after looking at her movie collection, it was decided that they would have a horror film fest. After lengthy discussions as to whether or not movies like "Jaws" could be considered horror flicks, which remakes were better or worse than their original predecessors and which sequels they thought had been a waste of time, they took turns picking their favorites until they had each chosen two and settled on a rotation – Dean, Meranda, then Sam. Despite the fact that chances were more than likely they wouldn't make it through all of them, everyone was satisfied with the general concept. When all was said and done, the movies were stacked beside the television in the order they were to be played: "Shaun of the Dead", "Alien", "The Exorcist", "Evil Dead 2", "The Shining" and "From Dusk Till Dawn".

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower before we get started if you two don't mind," Sam said. "If I'm gonna end up falling asleep to any one of these, I wanna at least be comfortable."

"Actually, that _does_ sound good," Dean chimed in. He started to open his mouth, the invitation for Meranda to join him on the tip of his tongue, when Meranda turned toward the kitchen.

"That works! While you two shower, I'll make some popcorn and stock the cooler," she said jubilantly.

Dean couldn't decide if he were disappointed or grateful to have a reason not to continue speaking as he'd initially intended. By the time he'd decided the answer was a little of both, she was already getting involved in her project – more reason not to ask her…or maybe it was more of an excuse than a reason. Either way, he'd be showering alone.

He spent the ten minutes it took him from start to finish thinking about the decisions he'd made and how he was going to carry them out. He'd tried earlier to think _past_ carrying them out, but every time he even attempted to approach it, he immediately felt an overwhelming fear that it might drown him. As he made his way back into the living room, now in boxers and a t-shirt and smelling squeaky clean, he welcomed the distraction the movies would bring.

As Dean sat at the end of the sofa, Sam opened the hall bath door. He turned off the light and headed back to the living room. Also in boxers and a t-shirt and smelling fresh, he grabbed a beer from the cooler on his way to sit in the crook of the couch.

Meranda placed a large bowl mounded with popcorn, a folded cloth in a shallow bowl of water and a small towel in the center of the coffee table in front of them. The brothers looked at the bowl of water, the towel and then each other with rising curiosity. Meranda watched their faces and burst into laughter.

"Wet cloth – to get the grease off your hands, dry cloth – to dry them," she pointed at them as she said it.

"Were you a girl scout or something?" Dean asked jokingly.

Chuckling, she replied, "Let's just say I've had a lot of practice in being prepared…like a thousand years of it."

"Well, I'd have to say you've pretty much perfected it," Dean teased.

She settled between them after putting the DVD into the player. As the trailers began to run, Dean leaned back and slid down into a more comfortable position, his arm instinctively going behind her. Grabbing the remote controls, she leaned back and nestled in next to him, curling her legs up beside her. As she got comfortable, Dean's arm slid around her, his hand coming to rest sandwiched between her side and her arm. Sam leaned toward her, resting on one elbow and putting his own legs up on the other end of the sofa. Once he was settled, she extended her legs toward him and he absently reached out, pulled them in front of him, putting one arm over her lower calves.

Halfway through the movie, Sam and Dean were critiquing the methods the characters were using for the umpteenth time, Meranda laughing at their quips and comments when Dean became aware of the fact they were sharing this not just in front of her, but _with_ her...and sharing it as if it were the most natural thing for them to do. The realization stopped him in mid-sentence and looked at her in amazement.

"What?" Looking up at him, she laughed, her head now in his lap.

Dean's arm was over her chest, his hand resting on her shoulder. As his warm smile slowly appeared, he slid his hand up to her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The look of wonder and bewilderment still apparent in his eyes, he replied, "Just…_you_."

Sam, who now had his arm over her thighs just above her knees, openly watched, smiling. When Dean looked at him, he nodded and winked before turning his attention back to the movie.

Meranda smiled back at him, put her hand on his and pulled it to her lips where she peppered it with kisses before focusing on the movie again...or at least focusing on it as much as she could. After the look in his eyes, not dipping into his feelings to find out what was going on with him required quite a bit of energy on her part. She knew that he'd been struggling, not only with all the information he'd had dumped on him, but with thoughts, feelings and emotions that were touching much closer to home than he'd expected.

When he had not only allowed her, but _asked_ her to stop blocking him and see what he was feeling earlier, she'd found affection, caring, desire, warmth, tenderness, wonder and even love all snarled and tangled with confusion, surprise and, amazingly enough, anger. It reminded her of plugging in a massive knot of Christmas lights before investing the effort to straighten them out and finding that they all miraculously work. Her hopes were that he'd see the energy involved would be worth the fruit it would produce.

Now, his eyes told her there were things going on inside him and without "listening in", she would simply have to wait. The only thing stopping her from at least peeking was the fact that she knew without a doubt she wouldn't be able to hide her reaction – no matter which way she might find him leaning. So instead, she pointed her face at the television and pretended to watch it while putting all of her effort into fighting the urge to look inside him. Again, images of Christmas came to her, but this time of children eyeing packages under the tree with faces filled with longing. She chuckled a bit, but it coincided with part of the movie that was worthy of laughter so it went unnoticed by either of the brothers.

The longer she concentrated, the more tired she felt and before long, her eyes were closed and she had drifted off to sleep for the second time that day.


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note:**_ First, I have to say that I do not own these characters. With that out of the way - **SMUT ALERT!** This chapter is filled with it so those who may be offended, avert your eyes...but more importantly, how'd you get this far? A very special thanks to LilBrokenDolly for the words of encouragement and especially for the idea. Please, read and enjoy and take a moment to review. And, without further ado...

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_**Chapter 38**

Sam lay staring at the television for several minutes before he noticed the music playing. Aerosmith was singing "Dream On" and he realized that he could no longer hear the movie. He also realized that his head was now on Meranda's stomach and vaguely wondered if maybe he'd fallen asleep. She shifted beneath him and he nuzzled his face against her, unexpectedly finding his cheek against her bare skin.

_Huh…her shirt must've ridden up,_ Sam thought absently as he closed his eyes and savored the warm, soft smoothness of it against his face.

Her hand slowly rose from her side and came to rest on his head where she began stroking his face and hair, her touch whisper soft. He gently kissed her stomach and instantly, his senses filled with the wonderful smell of her arousal causing his hand on her thigh to squeeze in the reflex of his lust. Her fingernails slowly brushed through his hair with an intensified ardor as if his grip on her had ignited a fire inside her.

He turned, barely touching her velvety skin with his warm, moist mouth, his breath caressing her in tandem. He heard her enraptured gasp and felt her back arch, pressing her body to his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair pulling him to her.

Sam lifted himself up and rolled onto his stomach to lie between her legs. Looking up at her, he also saw Dean kneeling beside the sofa, their mouths locked in a ravenous kiss, her other hand digging into the flesh of Dean's back.

Her hand still in his hair, she pulled Sam toward her, urging him to turn his attention back to his previous task, which he was happy to oblige.

Meranda felt Sam's hot, wet mouth against her skin as he began to work his way downward. He grasped the waist of her pajama pants and eased them down with his descent. Dean's hungry mouth and insatiable tongue against her own amplified the throbbing between her legs. As Sam's tongue began exploring her folds, she released a delighted gasp against Dean's soft, moist mouth. With one hand still in Sam's hair, she used her free hand to release Dean from his boxers. Breaking their kiss, she slowly began exploring every inch of his length with her mouth, relishing his delicious taste, magnificent shape and impressive size. She felt Dean's hand in her hair, pushing and pulling her into a pleasurable rhythm.

Sam continued exploring her sensitive skin with his warm, wet tongue, ratcheting her yearning for release up another dozen notches. Just as she found herself on the golden edge, she felt Sam shift position and in one smooth movement, she was filled with him. Instantly, she was lost in a sea of sensation. She cried out. One hand grasped at Sam's chest and arm. Her other hand firmly gripped Dean's thigh, pulling him to her in perfect rhythm with him.

As he continued thrusting, Dean looked down into her eyes. He could see the fire inside them and could feel it smoldering in his own. He felt his passion rising to a height he didn't know existed. It was as though their very essence was entwined, their souls dancing with each other. He had never felt so…_complete. _Suddenly, his release washed over him and he heard a loud groan escape his throat. It sounded far away and foreign.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, snapping him awake.

Dean bolted upright on the couch, looking around the room in obvious confusion. His eyes immediately began searching for Meranda and settled on her form walking toward him from the kitchen. She offered him the glass in her hand and he took it, drinking deeply from it. Catching his breath, his brow remained furrowed with his disorientation. His eyes met Meranda's and she gave him a knowing, almost wickedly seductive smile.

"Okay, what the hell was _that_?" Dean demanded, suddenly feeling like he was the only one who didn't know what was going on.

"I guess I forgot about that part," Meranda said, her smile fading at the displeasure in his voice.

"What part?" Dean asked, trying to not speak in the same demanding tone, but failing miserably.

Meranda took a deep breath before answering. "The dreams...because we're connected we can share dreams, each of us contributing our own wants, desires and ideas. If it's any consolation, it's strongest when we make physical contact. That's why we were all three there."

As the last sentence sank in, Dean's eyes shot to Sam who was looking back at him just as shocked as he was.

Turning his attention to Meranda, Sam asked, "So, you're saying that the three of us just had the _same_ dream," his shock turning to awe.

Dean had to make a conscious effort not to punch Sam. He couldn't have even explained why other than the fact that Sam's "let's meet this thing head-on" attitude had just gotten under his skin one time too many. Instead, without a word, Dean stood, handed her the glass and walked to her bedroom.

Meranda and Sam watched him go and as he rounded the corner into her room, they looked at each other. The concern in her eyes kept Sam from offering the half-shrug and eye roll that he felt on the verge of giving. Instead, he stretched and yawned before looking back down the hallway and then at her again. It was clear to Meranda that Sam was going to be a spectator and not a participant in this turn of events.

Without waiting for his advice, Meranda put the glass on the coffee table and started toward her bedroom. She didn't have to look back to know that Sam was in the same position on the couch and had no intention of following her.

When she entered the room, she found Dean on her bed, his back to her. She quietly closed the door and stood looking at him. Her eyes had settled on the back of his head and she began taking in every tiny aspect of the things that were him – the shine of his soft hair, the clean line of it at the scruff of his neck, the smooth curves of his ear, neck and shoulder and the way these flowed seamlessly into each other, the lines of the muscles of his back and side that were visible even through his shirt, the curve of his perfect hip and ass that flowed down into his beautifully chiseled legs. He was a vision of perfection.

She knew without "looking" that inside, he was a mess. He'd been overloaded in the last day or two with an enormous amount of information, some of it welcomed and some of it not so much, but he'd come to accept it for the most part on his own terms. And now _this_. She hoped with everything she had that this wasn't the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back while simultaneously cursing herself for not thinking to say something to him before it happened.

He shifted on the bed, breaking her out of her self-deprecating trance. She quietly walked to the bed and climbed up, settling in just inches from him, but without touching him. She laid still and quiet, listening to his breathing and, with a little boost of energy, to his heart beat which was thankfully calm.

She reached out and hesitantly touched his arm. When she visibly saw him relax, even if just a little, a small wave of relief flowed through her.

"I'm sorry," she said, just above a whisper. "I swear I didn't keep this from you on purpose. Please, understand that these _things_ about me...it's easy for me to forget that they're..._different_. They're part of what makes me...well, _me_, but I wouldn't have wanted you to find out like this. Especially since it upset you."

Dean didn't respond right away. He lay there, going over it in his mind and questioning whether or not his knee-jerk reaction to get pissed off had been the right route to take. A little warning _would_ have been nice, but what would it have changed other than knowing there was a possibility? Had he enjoyed the dream? Fuckin'-A right he had! Was he pissed off because of it? Not so much because of the dream, but more so because he'd felt left out of the loop somehow...like when he woke up, everyone else knew what had happened which had put the experience a little higher than normal on the humiliation scale.

But Sammy _hadn't_ known. The look on his face had said as much. Sam had just been more ready to accept it than Dean had been...which had angered him even more.

Suddenly, Dean felt like a complete and total ass.

He put his hand on hers and from behind him, he heard a heavy sigh of relief.

"Is there anything else you can think of that I might need to know?" Dean asked, his voice resonating in the quiet room.

She thought long and hard before answering.

"Honestly? I can't think of anything, but that doesn't mean that there's not because I didn't think of this. There _is _something though I guess I need to ask _you_. Is there something you want to tell _me_?"

This prompted Dean to roll over onto his back and look at her, his brow creased with curiosity.

"Like what?"

"Well, you know how I said that we each contribute our own wants and desires into the dream?"

"Yeah," Dean answered wondering where this was going.

Meranda hoped that she wasn't going to regret proceeding with this, but it had been in the forefront of her mind since she woke and she didn't think keeping it from him was the wisest decision considering what had brought them to this point.

"Um...hmmm...well, in that dream, you...and I...uh..." she stammered.

Dean was beginning to wonder if they'd really shared the same dream because he knew what they did and it wasn't anything they hadn't done before and certainly nothing to warrant the awkwardness or inhibition he saw in her eyes.

"Well, our souls kinda..._connected_," she finally continued. "That wasn't me...not the mutual part. I can't impose my will like that."

Dean wasn't sure how to answer. His plan earlier had been to tell her of his feelings, his desire to make their connection mutual and much more. He'd avoided it simply by chance and now here it was in front of him. Looks like they'd both been given information in a way the other hadn't quite planned.


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note:**_ I do not own these characters. I'm not sure which is worse, not being able to upload a chapter or not being able to get into the site to read it. *LOL* Ok...let me know what you think so far - good, bad or indifferent. Enjoy!

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_**Chapter 39**

After much internal debate on how to begin, Dean said, "This isn't quite the way I wanted you to find out...guess we're even on _that_ front."

Meranda, propped up on one elbow and just looked at him, waiting for him to proceed. As the silence threatened to become deafening, he drew in a deep breath and released it.

"Damn! This would be _so_ much easier if you just did your thing, you know? Just have you see it for yourself and not have to go through trying to put it into words..." he struggled.

She shook her head. "No, I think it would be best for both of us if you say it. I'm pretty sure we both need to hear it."

Dean put his hands on his face and rubbed his forehead. "Alright, but I'll warn you now, I _really_ suck at this."

"Yeah, I kinda knew that already," she gently teased.

He took in another deep breath before beginning.

"Here goes...um, I don't really know where this thing with us can go because of...well, because of my life, but I do know that I...I _need_ you. I feel things with you and for you that I didn't even know were possible for me." He paused, searching for the right words. "And this soul connecting thing? I've given it a lot of thought and I think that I want to...you know?"

"Dean, you realize that by doing that, you would _always_ be connected to me, don't you? You would always be able to feel my feelings and my presence and vice versa."

Dean lay in quiet contemplation. Finally, he asked, "It'd be like we were together even when we couldn't be, right?"

She thought for a moment. "Yeah, but it's _more_ than that. It's complicated, you know? After what we just went through, maybe I should try to explain it as best I can before you make any firm decisions."

He knew that she was right, but he also knew that short of telling him that his head would explode as a result, he was going to go through with it. To confirm this to himself, he asked, "Was that what happened in the dream? I felt your soul?"

She smiled and her eyes lit up. "Yes," she said simply.

"That was absolutely fucking amazing," he said in a whisper, his reverence and astonishment glowed in his eyes.

Her smile widened and a seductive laugh escaped her throat. "Yeah, it was," she almost purred back.

Dean's mind ran through those feelings again and, even though the memory of them were somewhat dulled compared to when it was actually happening, he just couldn't imagine _not_ wanting that.

Getting back to her train of thought, Meranda said, "Dean, you're talking about being bonded to each other…for life. Even though that may sound like what your concept of marriage might be, it's different. There's not a commitment involved to 'stay true' or anything, but it's also not something that you can just opt out of because it doesn't fit into your life anymore. There is no divorce...it's for life...forever."

Dean looked thoughtfully away. For him, "life" could be until he was eighty or just eighty hours from now. For him, the question wasn't was he sure he wanted to do it, but more could he live with himself if he didn't…did he even _want _to live without that connection knowing that he didn't have to?

When he didn't respond, Meranda continued, "At least agree to think about it a little while longer. You've still got five days, right?"

Dean looked into her eyes. "Do _you_ not want to?" he asked bluntly.

"That's not it at all," she insisted. "Honestly, there aren't words to express how happy I am to know that you want to do this. I just know it's a big decision and one you shouldn't make lightly. Don't go from letting it crush you to embracing it without at least thinking it over. You _must_ know there's a lot we need to discuss."

She was right. He felt like a kid learning to ride a bike – every time he thought he was getting the hang of it, he'd lean a little too far to one side and almost wipe out before shakily regaining control. He was going to need more time. Maybe if Sam's theory was right and they were on some sort of emotional fast track, the rest of him would eventually catch up and he wouldn't feel quite so out of sorts.

He looked at the clock, yawning, and saw it was just after 3:30 in the morning.

"How about we do some of that talking in the morning? Maybe with a little more rest, my head will be clearer." His eyes were visibly heavy with his need to sleep.

Meranda leaned down and kissed his warm, soft mouth gently before turning off the light and curling up next to him.

Just before falling asleep, Dean's voice came out of the darkness. "So, um...if we dream now, it'll just be the two of us, right?"

He heard her suppress a giggle before answering. "Yes."

The last coherent thought he had was how odd he found it that he wasn't the least bit upset with Sam's roll in the dream. The darkness of sleep took him as his next thought fought to form.

It seemed like no time at all had passed, but the morning sun beaming through the sliding glass door and into Dean's face said different.

He yawned and stretched before rolling over to find that he was alone. He lay there a moment before his nose picked up the wonderful smell of meat candy – bacon! He smiled to himself thinking that there were few better ways to start the day.

Making his way to the bathroom, he realized that he felt lighter in spirit. The smile already on his face broadened as the knowledge sank in that this new, less stressed outlook was more likely than not due to their talk last night. It was almost enough to make the idea of their upcoming talks less stressful..._almost_.

Casting the thought from his mind, he relieved himself, freshened up a bit and threw on a pair of jeans before making his way to down the hall.

In the living room, Sam was sprawled out on the sofa, still sleeping soundly. Dean smiled at the sight, in spite of himself. Sammy was no sound sleeper and once he was up, he was up, so for him to still be asleep that close to the activity that could be heard coming from the kitchen was a small miracle in itself. As his mind began pulling out ideas of horrid things he could do to Sam while he slept, he forced himself to move past them and into the kitchen.

Meranda was washing dishes and the only sign of the bacon he could smell was the pan she was just putting into the water. Her hair was up in a ponytail, yet the end of it still fell well below the middle of her back. Stepping up behind her, he slid his arms around her, squeezed her to him and gently kissed the curve of her neck.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have to say you're trying to spoil me a little," Dean said against her skin.

Leaning back against his chest, she smiled then kissed him gently. "They _do_ say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," she said jokingly, turning her attention back to the dishes.

"Better than through the chest, I guess. Wait, we _are_ talking about with food, right," he teased back.

He drank in the smile she gave him and kissed her neck again before releasing her.

"What do you need help with?" he asked.

"You wanna wake Sam up? Let him get moving around before it's time to sit down at the table?"

Dean's mind instantly started churning with ideas only a big brother could have again. He took in a deep breath and did his best to muzzle them before stepping back into the living room. Instead of dipping his finger into his mouth and then into Sam's ear or nose or taking one of the napkins from the table and barely dragging the edge of it across his face in hopes of making him smack himself, Dean simply nudged him with his knee.

"Wake up, Sammy!"

Sam opened one eye and looked up at him. He recognized the look in Dean's eye at once and was surprised not to be waking up to his hand being dipped into water or worse. Of course, he hadn't looked in the mirror yet either. For all he knew, he could've been laying there with a Sharpie drawn Hitler mustache or, Dean's personal favorite, unibrow.

Sam yawned and stretched, watching Dean's face closely for even the slightest hint of a smirk. When Dean turned away and headed into the kitchen as he sat up, Sam only found it suspicious; that maybe he'd turned away because he was unable to hide his smug smile any other way.

Still shaking off the night's slumber, Sam stumbled to the hall bathroom. He looked himself over in the mirror and was relieved by what he _didn't_ see. _Looks like Dean cut me some slack_, he thought. Immediately followed by, _What the hell's he up to?_

He finished in the bathroom and made his way back toward the living room, refreshed and awake. A buzz of activity in the kitchen and dining room drew his attention and he rounded the corner in time to see both Dean and Meranda going into the dining room at the opposite end.

He backed out of the kitchen and stepped around the small wall and into the dining room where the table was set. A large platter stacked high with pancakes – blueberry and plain – sat in the middle of the table surrounded by two different kinds of syrup, peanut butter, butter, powdered sugar, a small bowl of fresh fruit and a small plate of bacon.

"I slept through this?" Sam asked, perplexed.

Sitting down between them, Meranda said straight-faced, "Slept? I could barely hear the bacon frying over you…and who's Amy?"

Sam's face suddenly flooded with disbelief. Had he dreamed about Amy Steigler again? Oh God! Or maybe Aimee Warner…the difference between the two would determine exactly where he'd land on the Scale O' Shame. He looked at Dean who's elbows were on the table, his chin in both his hands and smirking smugly as he blinked in an overly exaggerated manner.

Meranda burst into laughter and shook her head. "My, my, my Sam…"

Dean wasn't able to hold it in any longer and burst into laughter too. "She's yankin' your chain! Damn, Sammy! You really _are_ gullible!"

Sam's eyes narrowed, his lips pursed and his gaze was distributed evenly between the two of them as they continued to laugh infectiously. He mumbled under his breath and Meranda tilted her head slightly, poking out her bottom lip and saddening her eyes, giving him an animated pouting expression. His attempt at being upset failed miserably and in no time, he was laughing right along with them.

Their laughter died down as Meranda placed her hands, palms up, on the table. Without hesitation, they join hands with her and each other and bow their heads. As she finished and closed the prayer by saying, "Amen", Sam and Dean repeated the word in unison after her. She opened her eyes and smiled at them, impressed with their gesture. Without discussion, she continued smiling and began preparing her plate.

"I thought maybe we could go to the park today. You know, get out _and away_ from the house? You guys up for that," Meranda asked, taking a bite of an apple slice.

"Sure, I'm up for that. You Sammy?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note:** _I don't own these characters. Updates this week may be a little slow due to the upcoming holiday and some projects I've been volunteered for. Please, read, enjoy and review - btw, reviews tend to make me forget the other stuff and just concentrate on the story. :)

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_**Chapter 40**

After breakfast was finished, they spent a little time doing their own thing. Sam showered and dressed before setting himself up in her office to do a little research. He wanted see what was going on, if anything, that they might need to focus on in the near future.

Dean got dressed and spent some quiet time alone in the backyard, checking the feeders and birdbaths for Meranda. He was amazed at how much clearer his mind was at the end of the process.

As for Meranda, she showered, worked on laundry and put together a picnic basket and cooler for their day at the park.

When Dean came back inside, he was greeted by the smell of his freshly laundered clothes folded and stacked neatly on the bed. He ran his hand over the smooth, warm fabric and couldn't help but to smile as he picked the stack up and put them back into his bag. He could hear Sam across the hall tapping out a frantic tempo on the keyboard of his laptop. Bypassing the office, he walked to the kitchen where Meranda was pouring ice into the cooler.

"Wow, we _are_ coming back from the park...aren't we?" he teased.

She narrowed her eyes and smiled a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, we're _coming back_. I just thought that a picnic lunch would be kinda nice. I could always take your portion out if you'd rather not participate."

He scoffed as he took the cooler from her and started toward the garage. To him, there was no question which car they were going to take and instinctively, he began loading the Impala. He put the cooler in the backseat and as he turned to go back for the picnic basket, realized she was standing beside him holding it along with a large, folded blanket. After placing these in the backseat with the cooler, they went back inside to wait for Sam.

They sat on the sofa, Dean on the end, Meranda in the curve, her feet in his lap. He stroked her leg a few times before finally breaking the silence.

"What brought you to this place? I mean, it kinda seems a little hole-in-the-wall-ish for someone like you."

"Jackie actually. We met in Georgia when she was interning at Emory in Atlanta. That was like fifty years or so ago so there weren't a lot of advances in medicine where cancer was concerned. I don't know what it was about that place...I was just _drawn_ to it. They had an entire ward of children who were just waiting to die and I couldn't bring myself not to do anything about it," she said and then chuckled. "Sorry, I digressed a bit didn't I?"

"No, no...please. I wasn't exactly looking for the Cliff Notes version. Besides, I wanna know more about you anyway," Dean said, almost shyly.

"I've lived an awful long time, Dean. You might be better off with the Cliff Notes version," she said, laughing under her breath.

"No, I'm fairly certain that I'm down with the uncondensed, unedited version of events." His smile was crooked and conveyed his simultaneous unease and eagerness in this new territory.

She cleared her throat, before continuing. "Ok...well, let's see...I was going to the children's ward every day for almost a year before I noticed Jackie watching me. I knew that she was paying attention to what was going on. You could just see it in her eyes...hell, _you've_ met her. How well do _you_ think she could hide how she feels or what she thinks?" Meranda laughed at the thought.

"Yeah, 'covert' is not her strong suit," Dean said chuckling.

Still laughing, Meranda proceeded. "Believe it or not, she was even _worse_ when she was young."

The look of disbelief on Dean's face prompted a fresh round of laughter.

"I know...you'd never consider her 'mellow' without knowing what she was like before age began to slow her down," Meranda said. "Anyway, she continued to watch me for the next year or two before she finally approached me and asked me if I worked at the hospital. I already knew that she was well aware I wasn't an employee so I had to assume this was the only way she knew to break the ice and finally speak to me. She asked me if I lived nearby and if I'd like to have dinner with her and her husband. I hadn't really had much contact outside of the hospital in years so I agreed. When I met him, it was clear that Richard was dying. I could see it in him and smell it on him. I knew then why she'd invited me...I also knew that I was gonna help."

"So, what? She just asked you to work your mojo and, _poof_, he was cured?"

"No it doesn't work quite like that. She was reluctant to ask me. I think maybe she thought it might scare me away if I thought she knew. Honestly though, it was a relief. I knew that she wasn't exploiting my abilities. I was her last option. She'd watched me for a _very_ long time without ever attempting to manipulate my intentions or questioning my methods or even interfering when I knew she wanted to."

"Before she knew, how long were you…you know, alone?"

A sadness crept into her eyes and he watched as she pushed it away. "I'd lost my mother about two hundred years or so before I met Jackie."

"You were alone for two _hundred_ years?" Dean said, trying to imagine what that must've been like.

"I was alone in the sense that no one knew what I was…what I _am_…yes. Jackie's been a great friend. Even her husband died without knowing what I am. Which kinda brings us back to the original question. When Richard got better, he ended up taking a position in Boise City just fifteen miles or so from here. Jackie asked me if I would consider moving too so that I wouldn't have to be alone."

This last fact more than anything enlightened Dean to Jackie's true level of affection for Meranda. She was a tough old bird, but she was protecting someone she loved dearly and going about it no differently than he would himself. Part of him was grateful to her. As Dean was trying to figure out exactly how to deal with this new found respect he was feeling for this bulldog of a woman, Sam appeared.

"You guys aren't waiting on _me_, are you?" Sam asked.

"Well, it looks like we're not anymore," Meranda said with a smile, beginning to stand.

"Anything interesting?" Dean asked, tilting his head toward the office.

"Nothing really worth any interest," Sam said.

Dean knew this was Sam's way of saying that there wasn't anything out there that wasn't already being dealt with by someone else. Normally, Dean's competitive side would take over and he'd feel a stab of jealousy that it wasn't him and Sam. But this time, he felt nothing but relief. It meant they didn't have to go…at least not yet.

"Ready?" Meranda asked grabbing her purse from beside the door.

Dean gave Sam a look that said, "I'm ready if you are" then dug his keys from his pocket and headed out the door.


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's note:**_ I do not own these characters. With that out of the way, I'm going to dub this the chapter that almost wasn't as half -way through it, my computer was turned off and I lost all of my work. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled, but maybe the results is better than the original...who knows? Please read, enjoy and of course, please review!

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**Chapter 41**

As they approached the park, George Harrison was softly singing "Something" as Meranda lounged between them. In no time, they could clearly see the large sign shaped and painted to look like a red barn announcing that they were about to enter the Charles A. Widmore Park and Petting Zoo. A small, battered parking lot lay just past the sign. Beyond the parking lot, there were several picnic tables, small grills and two brightly colored playgrounds, all of which were aged, but invitingly so. The parking lot was almost empty which wasn't surprising since it wasn't quite noon on a weekday.

As they parked, a small gaggle of geese and small groupings of ducks could be seen around and on a manmade pond. This was separated from the playgrounds by a large grassy area and wide walkway that appeared to also be connected to a meandering path that disappeared through the park. A rock wall that Dean judged as being just under knee height surrounded the bank of the pond that he assumed was there to protect the children from the water.

Sam noticed several signs – one to let visitors know to stay off the rock wall, one to let visitors know to only feed the animals food purchased from the zoo and one to let patrons know that food and drinks were only allowed in designated areas. The one that drew the most speculation from him was the sign reminding parents not to leave their children unattended. Sam briefly wondered if that was really something people had to be reminded of or if it was more of a liability issue that prompted the park to post them. He hoped it was the latter.

"We can leave everything in the car until later, if you'd like," Meranda said, getting out of the Impala.

Sam and Dean nodded. They busied themselves with taking in their surroundings on a dual level. While part of them scanned the landscape and took mental inventory of the lay of the land and its current inhabitants, simultaneously another part of them took an appreciative note of these same items. Satisfied with the low threat level, they both found they were sliding comfortably into a "day at the park" sort of mindset.

They followed Meranda's lead and sidled up on either side of her as she started down the concrete path. Slowing her gait, she tilted her head back slightly, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Dean watched her and for a moment thought he could actually feel the serenity flowing from her. Fleetingly, he realized that if they were to connect mutually, he actually _would_ be able to feel it.

Before he had time to dwell on it further, Meranda drew his attention by sprinting away from them and to what appeared to be an incredibly large chain link cage that melded into the landscape. The closer he and Sam got to the cage the stronger and more pungent the smell coming from it seemed to become. They looked at each other, their faces twisted in disgust.

"What is _that smell_?" Dean asked, wondering how long it would be before he felt a gag rising in the back of his throat.

Meranda had reached the fence and pushed her fingers through the chain link. There were two gold and white foxes that quickly ran to her and began rubbing against her hands, obviously happy to see her.

Stepping forward, his face still puckered in offense of the smell, Sam began to read the small sign posted just a foot or so in front of the cage.

"The Arctic Fox, also known as the White Fox or Snow Fox, is native to Arctic regions of the Northern Hemisphere and common throughout the Arctic tundra biome. Males average 33 inches in length and 12 pounds. Females average 28 inches in length and 7 pounds. Huh…they fail to mention that they also smell like stale ass," Sam said sarcastically.

Meranda laughed. "They only smell like that because they've been confined to such a small space. They've also paired them up, but these animals are only monogamous during breeding seasons. That smell is his version of Obsession cologne. He's doing everything he knows to do to attract other females."

"Uh…number one, I hope he knows that there will _never_ be a market for _that _scent. And two, that's just…sad. Maybe we should try to sneak a collie or a poodle in for him," Dean said only half-joking.

Meranda cut her eyes at him and smiled a tight-lipped smile. Reaching into her bag, she produced what appeared to be two dog biscuits. She gave one to each of the animals and gently said, "Hér fara lítið sjálfur. Ég vildi að ég gæti gert meira."

Dean's eyes narrowed with curiosity. "What language is that?"

"Icelandic…_their_ language," she said pointing to the foxes.

A broad smile slowly creeped onto Dean's face, conveying the complete reverence he felt for her.

"So what does it mean?" he asked, his face still filled with awe.

Meranda smiled and blushed slightly. "It means 'Here you go, little ones. I wish I could do more.' I don't know if they understand, but they seem to respond to it more so than any other language," she said as she stood again.

Dean thought about the last part of that statement and he quickly reworded the same question over and over in his mind until it didn't sound quite so blunt.

"Um, what other languages have you tried?" he asked, hoping that sounded better than "Exactly how many damn languages do you speak?"

She looked thoughtful, obviously adding up the various attempts she'd made. For a moment, Dean wondered if she was joking, but when she answered, the sincerity in her tone said she wasn't. "Well, there was German, Swedish, Finish, Polish…I guess I tried about half a dozen before they responded to one."

Dean felt a tug inside him at this small reminder that she was much more than she appeared. He'd felt that same tug earlier when they'd talked about Jackie. Meranda knew, not just from stories, but first hand experience what the bulldog of a woman was like over fifty years ago – a fact that should have had him completely freaked out, but somehow didn't. And if that weren't indication enough that she was something different, she was able to honestly say that she had been alone for two hundred years while at the same time looking no older than he himself appeared. This and all the other things he's learned about the creature she is, yet he _still_ found himself irresistibly drawn to her. The fact that she was an exception to the rule only seemed to make her more provocative.

He was trying to escape that train of thought as he could feel his desire for her rising, when she walked to his side, took him by the hand and started back down the concrete path. As they passed Sam, she collected him by looping her arm though his. They followed the winding walkway stopping on their way at several of the food vending machines that dispensed food for the animals in ice cream cones before visiting and feeding various animals – ponies, llamas, ducks, geese, rabbits, goats, even a large tortoise that freely roamed the landscape.

As they passed the last of the fenced enclosures and the walk rounded a bend, they could see what looked like a large red barn. The sidewalk seemed to disappear at the door on big red building.

Following the path, Dean opened the barn door when they reached it and they all walked inside. The first thing they noticed was the rise in temperature. Outside was a comfortable spring day, but inside was a balmy early summer climate. Looking around, they could see why. They were standing in what they were fairly certain was a bird and reptile house.

There were large glass tanks covering one wall from end to end and floor to ceiling. Each one held a different type of snake, lizard, bug or frog including a tarantula and scorpions. One entire corner had been converted into a large glass tank and held a four foot long iguana who seemed incredibly bored.

There was a good sized pond in the middle of the room with four plexiglass walls surrounding it giving visitors a panoramic, cross-section view of the habitat. There was an island in the middle of the pond and small turtles and frogs could be seen lounging under the heat lamps that were beaming down on its tiny shore. Under the water, fish in assorted sizes were lazily swimming back and forth.

On the other side of the room was a wall lined with large bird cages and birds of all different shapes, sizes and colors. Meranda let go of the brothers and almost bolted to one of the large, wrought iron cages. A white and salmon colored bird hopped down from the top to land on the side bars. A large plume of feathers raised from the top of his head making him look like a horned beast. He flipped upside down and slid down the side bars, bouncing from side to side, flipping his head in circles while screeching loudly. As Meranda reached the cage, the bird hopped again and landed firmly on her shoulder where it snuggled up against Meranda's face, neck and hair.

She was giggling softly and speaking in low, calm whispers to the bird when Sam and Dean caught up to her. She put her hand under the bird's chest and it instantly stepped up onto her wrist.

"Dean, Sam, meet Bugsy. Bugsy, this is Dean and Sam," Meranda introduced them, smiling sincerely.

The brothers looked at each other, both obviously wondering if she'd lost her mind when the bird suddenly bowed and said, "Hello!"

"HA! I'll be damned!" Dean laughed, his top lip sneering in amused shock.

The bird must've thought this funny because it broke into an uproarious bout of laughter, then leaned toward Meranda and chattered some nonsense sounds that sounded vaguely like words before chuckling softly.

Sam's eyes narrowed and he looked from the bird to Dean. "Dude, I can't be sure, but I think the bird's making fun of you."

Meranda broke into her own peal of laughter. "He likes you," she said, still giggling.

She took a single step closer to Dean and Bugsy leapt from her wrist to Dean's shoulder. Dean instantly tensed causing Sam to laugh. She put her hand on Dean's arm.

"Relax. Bugsy's a cockatoo. They're known as the most cuddly of the bird species," Meranda said calmly.

Dean relaxed slightly and the bird moved closer to his head and cuddled up to his neck before wolf whistling. He bounced twice before leaping back to Meranda who reached into her purse and pulled out a small plastic bag with brightly colored dried peppers in it. She opened the bag and the bird walked down her arm, stuck its head in and grabbed one before flying back to the large cage.

"You guys hungry yet?" Meranda asked as she resealed the bag and put it back into her purse.

"Yeah, let's get out of here before any more of your feathered friends decide they like me," Dean said.

Sam and Dean once again looked shocked when the bird began laughing.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's notes: **_Although I'm on vacation, I've not been able to keep myself from the story...but I'm not complaining. :) I hope you're enjoying it and would **love** to hear what you think so far - good, bad or indifferent, so please, read, enjoy and review! :) Oh yeah, I still don't own these characters.  


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**Chapter 42**

Exiting the barn opposite the side they'd entered, they found themselves back on the path which now twisted and turned through a rolling landscape of small hills and valleys dotted with flowerbeds, benches and small animals. Squirrels, chipmunks and birds comfortably wandered the path and throughout the grounds around them.

Meranda slowed and produced another bag from her purse. This one held large peanuts in their shells. She opened the bag and offered its contents to Sam and Dean.

"No thanks. I'll just wait for lunch," Dean said, holding up his hand.

Meranda chuckled, "These aren't for _you_! It's for _them_," she nodded toward the chipmunks that were on the sidewalk ahead of them.

"They'll stay still and let us chuck these at them?" Dean asked in surprise as he took one from the bag. The peanut was at least three-fourths the size of the furry little creatures' heads.

She laughed again. "No! You're not gonna '_chuck_' anything. You're gonna hand these to them."

Now it was Sam and Dean's turn to laugh. "What?" they asked in unison.

She handed one to Sam, then took one out for herself and took two steps forward. Kneeling, she slowly held her hand out in front of her. One of the chipmunks had watched her every move and once her hand was extended with the peanut, he scurried to her, stopping every few steps to sniff the air before continuing. When he reached her, he reached out, gently took the peanut and quickly stuffed it into his cheek making the other side of his head look grossly deflated. He scampered away without bothering to stop every few steps to sniff the air as he had on his approach.

Meranda slowly stood and pivoted to face them wearing a huge smile. She wiggled her eyebrows at them and summoned them with a tilt of her head.

The brothers looked at each other before slowly stepping forward to meet her. Sam knelt first, extending his hand. Just moments later, another chipmunk was cautiously making its way toward him. As it reached him, it repeated the same behavior they'd watched the other one display – a little snatch, stash and dash. Sam chuckled as the chipmunk looked back over its shoulder at them once it was a safe distance away.

"Your turn," Sam said smugly to Dean, knowing that his brother was freaked out by the prospect of having what he would deem a "wild animal" get so close to him. It wasn't that Dean didn't like nature, he just chose to admire it from afar…and this was a far cry from _afar_.

Dean narrowed his eyes and shot his brother "the look" before looking at Meranda and doing his best to smile. He took in a deep breath, took a step forward and knelt the way he'd watched them both do. In no time, there was a chipmunk guardedly making its way to him. As if the small creature could sense his apprehension, it imitated the same movements the ones before it had, but in a much slower and more deliberate fashion. After stuffing the peanut into its cheek, the tiny animal reached out and grasped his index finger, sniffed it, then trotted away.

Dean kept his hand extended until the chipmunk was what he considered a safe distance away. He stood up, looked at both Sam and Meranda with an incredibly huge smile on his face.

"Did you see that shit?" he asked in total amazement.

Laughing, Meranda took his hand and looped her other arm through Sam's before starting down the path again.

"Yeah, fairly awesome, huh?" she asked, her smile resounding in her voice.

Dean searched for the words, but couldn't find them and settled on silent reverence instead. The trio walked in companionable silence back to the parking lot, Sam and Dean taking in their surroundings with renewed vision. Things that had escaped them at the time of their arrival like the baby squirrels that were taunting each other, playfully wrestling and running from tree to tree and the birds collecting bugs and feeding them to their offspring in nearby nests were suddenly on their radar. Sam could hardly believe that they missed this world that existed right before their eyes. Dean was still amazed that they'd actually been a part of that world, even if just for a scant moment.

Sam and Dean quietly gathered the picnic supplies from the backseat. They finished and found Meranda waiting for them in a grassy, shaded area on the other side of the parking lot. When they joined her, she took the blanket and spread it out on the ground under one of the larger trees. Dean sat the picnic basket down at the edge of the blanket and Sam sat the cooler beside it.

Meranda took off her shoes, stepping onto the blanket as she did and the brothers followed in kind. They sat in a makeshift circle and Meranda grabbed the picnic basket, bringing it to her side. She opened it and began unloading it, passing out sandwiches, bags of chips, plastic bags of fruit and napkins. Sam grabbed the cooler and handed everyone a chilled bottle of water.

As they ate, they watched the playgrounds and picnic tables across the parking lot begin to fill with mothers and young children. The sounds of the children laughing drifted across to them and Meranda watched the playground intently. Dean and Sam followed her gaze and quietly observed the children and her reactions to them. Her eyes held a sadness that was barely detectable despite the fact that it was in stark contrast to the smile she wore.

Knowing that this scene probably made her miss her own mother, Dean did his best to distract her. He scanned the landscape around them until he found what he was looking for. He broke a small piece from a slice of the fruit in his bag and extended it in the direction of the small, furry creature. Just like that, the little chipmunk began a start-stop-start approach toward the blanket which became even more cautious once he reached the edge of it.

Sam held his breath as he watched the tiny, brown and white animal ease its way to the fruit in Dean's fingers. It took the fruit, but instead of stuffing it into its cheek and retreating, began eating right there with them. Dean broke off a piece of bread from his sandwich and laid it with a small potato chip just inches from their new lunch guest. He took the cap from his water bottle, half-filled it with water from his bottle and sat it beside the bread.

A sideways smile had taken over both Sam and Dean's faces and Meranda noticed how much they looked alike when they wore the same expressions, an observation that brightened her smile and chased the sadness from her eyes. As they settled back into a comfortable rhythm of eating and conversing, a ringing sound came from her purse. The sudden and foreign noise frightened the chipmunk away, but not before it managed to stuff what was left of Dean's offerings into its cheeks.

She dug into the bag and came out with a cell phone. She checked the screen before quickly pushing a button and pressing it to her ear as she rose and stepped to the far end of the blanket.

"Hey! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to return my call," she said to the person at the other end of the line. Her back was to them so they weren't afforded the luxury of reading her facial expressions, but her voice said that she was happy to receive the call.

"Yeah, well, I'm at the park right now, but I'll be home before too long," she said. Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, she turned and looked at Dean.

"What time is it?" she asked him.

Dean looked at his watch. "Almost 12:30," he answered.

She smiled at him before turning back around and speaking into the phone again.

"Is 2:00 okay with you?"

Silence.

"Alright, I'll see you then!" She hung up the phone and turned back to them trying to keep her excitement under control.

Sam and Dean both wanted to ask what that was all about and she could see them struggling with themselves over whether or not to ask or maybe how to word it so that it didn't seem too invasive. Her excitement kept her from at least alluding to the answers.

"I've got a surprise for you two," she said in a sing-song voice, the excitement lighting up her eyes.

"What kind of surprise?" Sam asked, hoping that she'd go at least a little further. By now he'd put together that they were going to meet someone at 2:00 and he had to assume that this person was somehow related to the surprise. Maybe this person _was_ the surprise or maybe this person was bringing the surprise with them.

"You'll see," was all she would say before she squealed with delight.

Dean and Sam exchanged curious glances, then looked back to her. She just continued to smile as she took her seat again and began finishing her lunch. Almost done, the brothers began playing twenty questions with her in an attempt to figure out what this surprise was about.

"Is it bigger than a breadbox," Sam asked.

"Well, yeah," Meranda answered with a sarcastic "you _know_ it is" tone.

"Is it smaller than a Volkswagen?" Dean asked.

She sat thoughtfully for a moment before answering, "Wow, you know I really do hope so."

This of course just fueled their need to know. They continued taking turns and firing questions at her as they cleaned up and gathered their things. Walking to the car, Sam's eyes lit up with revelation. "Is it an animal, vegetable or mineral?"

Meranda's eyes narrowed as she looked at him and smiled. "I guess 'animal' would be the best description."

By their count, Sam only had three questions left and Dean had four to go. They thought her last answer over carefully as they loaded the car, not wanting to waste any of their remaining questions unnecessarily.

Starting the engine, Dean asked, "Is it a pet?"

This caused her to break into a bout of laughter that took her breath and left her unable to answer for quite awhile. "I guess we could ask that today," was all she could manage once she'd regained her composure.


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note:** _I don't own these characters...well at least not the Winchester boys...the rest are mine. Read, enjoy, and review...please! :)

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_**Chapter 43**

Back at Meranda's, they unloaded the car and went inside. Sam noticed how much more relaxed they seemed, almost an "at home" comfortable. The thought made him smile. He expected the feeling to flee at the moment it was observed, the way it always had, but it didn't. Inside him, a tension he didn't know was there relaxed and he felt it all the way through to his core. He stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes and savored the feeling that had so eluded him over the years.

When he opened his eyes, Dean and Meranda were looking at him questioningly.

He half-rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore them as he made his way down the hall and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, it's 1:15, do you think I've got time to grab a quick shower?" Dean asked Meranda.

"Sure, we've got enough time that we can all grab one. I'd like to get the smell of Bugsy off of me anyway," Meranda answered.

Without further prompting, Dean walked toward her bedroom, stopping at the hall bath first. He knocked on the bathroom door and from behind it, he heard the sink being turned off and then Sam's muffled voice.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, knowing it was Dean.

"Hey, Sammy, if you wanna grab a quick shower before the, uh, _surprise_ arrives, now's the time."

"Alright…I'm on it," Sam said, knowing that Dean wasn't just making a suggestion.

Dean walked into her bedroom, turned on the light and gathered his things to shower. As he walked into her bathroom, he heard the hall bath door open followed by Sam collecting his own shower supplies.

As he bathed, Dean pondered more on this "surprise" and wondered what could warrant such excitement on Meranda's part. They had only half-heartedly questioned her because they didn't want to ruin it for her, but now he was beginning to wonder what she was up to. She had been more than slightly anxious since the phone call at lunch and he didn't have to be connected or bonded to her to know that she was hoping for the best yet still worried about something…

He was trying to figure out what she could possibly be worried about when he heard the bathroom door open.

"Knock, knock," Meranda's voice drifted in to him.

"C'mon in, the water's fine," Dean called to her playfully.

Meranda laughed, "_Don't I wish_! There's no time. It's almost 1:30 and by the time I get done showering, it'll almost be time."

The hunter in Dean told him to press for more information, but he found himself in an internal debate with his heart. Did he really want to ruin this thing for her because his gut instinct said that he should know what they were walking into? As he was getting out of the shower, she was on her way in. As they passed each other, they briefly stopped and looked into each other's eyes and smiled.

Trust wasn't something that came easy for Dean, but something inside him managed to subdue his hunter's instinct. He knew in that instant when he looked into her eyes that the one thing he needed to do more than anything was to trust her, no matter how difficult it was for him.

When Meranda got out of the shower, she was alone in the bathroom. She had been so caught up in thought that she hadn't even heard Dean leave. She vaguely wondered when the last time she was so at ease that even the quietest of sounds in the same room escaped her and smiled at the fact that she couldn't remember. Quickly glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that she had just twenty minutes to finish getting dressed and throw together something for their guest.

She'd wracked her brain since their first day in her home trying to figure out a way she could repay them for everything they'd done for her – from the things they knew about to the things they may never know. Finally after one of their many conversations on the subject of what she was and how she was different from the rest, it had clicked. That evening, she had made a phone call while Sam and Dean were busy with other things. She'd only been able to leave voicemail, but she was detailed in her message and hung up hoping for the best. When she got the return call at the park, she almost jumped out of her skin with excitement.

She dressed quickly, combed her hair and threw on a headband to keep it out of her face. She thought about skipping the whole makeup thing – everyone there had seen her without it – but this seemed like an occasion that called for it.

Five minutes later, she was walking out of the bathroom and making her way to the kitchen. Sam was in the office again in front of his laptop. She could smell his clean scent as she passed the open door. Dean was in the living room, looking through her music. She breathed in his uniquely pure smell deeply as she rounded the corner and went into the kitchen wearing a satisfied smile.

By the time she was putting the finishing touches on the small spread of hor d'oeuvres she'd managed to throw together, the doorbell rang. Her head snapped in the direction of the door and a nervous smile suddenly appeared on her face, the satisfied smile a vague memory.

At the sound of the doorbell, Dean's attention had gone straight to Meranda and the worried smile she wore looked out of place for her. He took in a deep breath and quickly fought to get a grip on the surge of conflict that was trying to rise within him. It wasn't until Sam appeared in the hall on his way to the living room that Dean finally felt a welcomed calm come over him. He rose as Meranda opened the door and the nervous smile he felt appearing on his own face felt as out of place as Meranda's had looked.

On the porch stood a tall, clean cut, somewhat attractive man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. He had neat, short blond hair that appeared to have just begun graying on the sides, his eyes an electric blue that seemed to almost shine. Dean noticed that their visitor was also wearing his own anxious smile.

"Jason!" Meranda exclaimed, stepping forward and hugging him, "Come in, come in!"

By the time he was in the house, Dean and Sam had flanked her on either side. Sweeping her hands in the direction of each of them, she made the introductions.

"Jason, this is Sam and Dean. Sam, Dean, this is my very good friend Jason." She finished by taking in and releasing a deep breath, her eyes and smile wide. Jason had nodded and extended his hand. Sam and Dean had both taken it and given it the standard two-pump handshake after nodding in return.

"Well, come on in and have a seat," Meranda said, hurrying to the kitchen. She reappeared with a small tray that held assorted bite sized snacks. Placing it on the coffee table, she offered drinks to everyone then disappeared into the kitchen again to get them.

After handing all three men their beers, she took her seat between Sam and Dean, still smiling nervously. She placed her glass of wine on the table after taking a sip and cleared her throat.

"Um, ok…Dean, Sam…Jason is a friend of mine that I thought you'd be interested in meeting. He and I have known each other for at least twenty years now. He's also what you would call 'an exception to the rule'."

Jason's nervous smile was more pronounced. There was a new fear in his eyes and it was obvious he was doing his best to keep it under control as Sam and Dean's scrupulous gazes fell on him.

"I'm…I'm uh…what you would call a um…a shapeshifter," Jason stammered nervously before quickly adding, "But I'm not like the others of my kind."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances before looking back at him and then at Meranda with their brows furrowed in befuddlement.

Meranda continued looking from one brother to the other, smiling wildly. The silence in the room had just crossed into awkward when Sam scooted forward in his seat causing Jason to leap slightly backward in his own.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Sam said with a genuine smile on his face, his hands up in hopes of calming the man. "You'll have to forgive my brother and I…we're um, a little _new_ to the whole 'exception to the rule' theory."

"Knowledge, not theory," Jason corrected him, attempting to sound confident.

Sam tilted his head, his curiosity obvious in his eyes.

Jason continued, "If Meranda doesn't make you take the leap from 'theory' to 'knowledge', nothing will." He looked at Meranda and smiled. "I've met my share of her kind and honestly, I think there needs to be a completely different category for her."

"Well, we definitely agree on that point," Dean said, smiling at Meranda as he put his bottle on the table beside hers. His movements were slow and deliberate in an attempt to keep the mood on the even keel it seemed to have found.

When Dean sat back, he noticed Sam was shamelessly holding up his phone toward Jason and looking at it. From Sammy's expression, he didn't have to see the screen to know that Jason's eyes were flaring. He also knew from Sam's expression that his head was about to explode with a million questions for this new "exception".

"You must forgive me as well," Jason said apologetically. "When Meranda asked me if I would meet with you, I have to admit that your reputation preceded you and, well, forgive me, but I was rather pleased with the idea of _not_ being in your sights."

"What changed your mind," Sam asked sincerely, seeing an avenue of opportunity and seizing it.

Jason smiled, "Do you even need to ask? I trust her…obviously with my life or I wouldn't be here now." He laughed nervously, looking from Sam to Dean and back again.

"Well, I can honestly tell you that if Meranda says you're okay, then you're safe where we're concerned," Dean offered. He smiled and hoped it was perceived as a sincere gesture, when he saw the man physically relax.

"Meranda said that you'd probably have a few questions for me," Jason said, obviously trying to cut to the chase and end this torturous session as soon as possible.

"Wow, 'a few questions', huh? That's probably the understatement of the year," Dean said, his eyes wide as he looked at Meranda.

"What my brother means is, we've actually got so _many_ questions that it's hard for us to even get a grasp on where to start," Sam interjected, shooting his brother a look that told him Sam would be livid if Dean screwed up this opportunity for him – especially if he did it with some bullshit, smartass sarcastic comment.

"We don't want you to feel like you're in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition here...it's just...well, you've gotta admit, this is kinda overwhelming for both sides. Chances are you know more about us than we know about you," Dean said, trying to reassure Sam that he wasn't trying to supe-block him while at the same time letting the supe de jour know that they were doing the best they could given the circumstances.

Jason gave a curt nod and his facial expression told them that he thought this was a fair assessment.

"If you don't mind my asking, what kind of 'good deeds' do you do exactly," Sam asked with sincerity. "No offense, but the shifters we've known wouldn't do anything to help someone else unless there was some sort of benefit in it for them."

Jason took in a deep breath and released it. "Yeah, I know _all about_ my kind and it makes me sick that I'm anything like them. So, yeah...that's a fair enough question. Do you know how many dying people in hospitals and nursing homes never see the people who are supposed to care for them the most?"

Sam and Dean looked thoughtfully away. Neither of them had ever given the subject much thought, if _any_, before now.

"Well, that's what I do," Jason said smiling. "I work at hospitals and nursing homes, giving sick and dying people something they deserve – time with people they love...people who are too busy to give them the freakin' time of day."

"Isn't that just lying to them?" Dean asked.

"Tell me, if a child is on her deathbed with cancer and she's not seen her father for the last six months because the sight of her makes him feel like a failure, but suddenly he's there – holding her hand, stroking her hair, telling her that she's his little princess and that he loves her...do you think that the lie does more damage than letting her slip into a coma before death believing that her father thinks she's not worth his time?" Jason shot back.

Dean's brow furrowed with contemplation and he was silent for several moments before answering. "Point taken."

"Wow...that's just...awesome," was all that Sam could manage. His mind was racing in a million different directions and with at least that many questions. After trying to sort through them, the one that surfaced the most was the one he finally asked.

"Jason, would you be opposed to meeting with us again?"

Jason looked at Meranda who was smiling hopefully at him before answering. "Yeah, I think that would actually be best. That would give us both time to gather ourselves." He chuckled nervously.

"Great! I might actually get a chance to wrap my head around this and get some pointed questions hammered out so I don't just sit here muttering like an idiot," Sam said and instantly cringed inside waiting for Dean to come back with one of his signature cutting remarks.

Before Dean could say anything, Meranda spoke up. "How about dinner tomorrow? Would that give you enough time Sam?"

Sam and Jason exchanged glances and half-shrugged at each other.

"I'm good with that if everyone else is," Jason answered.

Without looking at Dean, Sam said, "Yeah, dinner'd be great and I should be able to come up with something by then."

"Great! Tomorrow evening at 7:00 then," Meranda said excitedly. Her mind began cranking out menu ideas and planning the minutest of details of the evening.

"Will Jackie be here?" Jason asked.

The room fell silent and Sam and Dean both looked at him in surprise.

"Oh damn! You know Jackie, huh?" Dean asked.

Jason laughed a genuine, hearty laugh. "I see you've met her. Don't worry, where Meranda's concerned, everyone starts out on Jackie's shit list. As long as she sees that you're treating Meranda okay, it doesn't take long to work your way off of it."

"You know, Jason, that's probably a pretty good idea. I think I _will_ invite her for dinner," Meranda said nodding and smiling.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"Sorry guys. I didn't mean to get anything started. It's just that, well, Jackie's kinda been a part of this thing for a long time now," Jason said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," Dean said, smiling. "If she needs to _see_ how we're treating Meranda, then by all means, I want her to be here." He also thought that dinner might be a great opportunity for him to have a few words with Jackie. He'd been thinking about talking to her ever since his revelations about her.

"It's settled then! I'll invite her!" Meranda said, obviously thrilled with the idea.

Jason stayed for another hour, swapping Jackie stories with Meranda mainly for Sam and Dean's benefit.

Jackie it seemed had been instrumental in many of Jason's patient interactions, including one that was almost disastrous. It seemed that an elderly patient had been asking for her husband for several weeks, but without results. She kept a picture on her bedside of him and Jackie "borrowed" it so that Jason could work his magic. Unfortunately, no one had bothered to tell the good doctor that the patient's husband had actually passed away a few weeks before. Her children had decided in her condition that they should wait to tell her. Needless to say, when her children came for a visit and passed their dead father in the hallway, there was quite a commotion.

"What did you do?" Sam asked, laughing so hard that his eyes had begun to tear up.

"I did the only thing I could think of – ran to the bathroom and changed back to myself! You should've seen Jackie tripping on herself trying to apologize," Jason said, laughing until he was out of breath.

Dean and Meranda had laughed until their sides hurt.

Later Dean tried to imagine this woman being so apologetic for her actions, but he simply found it impossible. The woman he had met seemed too calculating and deliberate for things like that to go wrong for her. Of course, things like that are probably what a good portion of why she was that way.

Either way, Dean knew that he needed to have some sort of plan of what he was to say. He already knew that she could shred him verbally if he went in unprepared and that wasn't an outcome he would welcome.

Before long, Jason was leaving. As soon as Meranda shut the door and turned around, she saw Sam and Dean were staring at her quizzically.

"Surprise," she said, smiling nervously.


	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note: **_I don't own these characters. Please read, enjoy and review! :)

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_**Chapter 44**

Meranda wasn't sure what their reactions were going to be once Jason was gone, but once again, she hoped for the best. She turned from the door to find that their expressions were similar only because both held confusion. Even though it was only mere seconds before either of them responded, for her, it felt like a lifetime.

Looking incredulously from Meranda to Dean and back again, Sam laughingly said, "Can you believe it? Can you _freakin'_ believe it? A shifter that defies the odds! And…_AND_ he's willing to sit down and talk to us? Oh _man_! Does it get any better than that? I've gotta get busy! I've only got like 24 hours to get all these questions down!"

With that he quickly darted over to Meranda, kissed her cheek as he hugged her exuberantly then shouted "Thank you" over his shoulder as he made a mad dash for her office again. Once she heard the office door close, she averted her eyes to the floor and waited for Dean to say his peace.

Dean, who had spent a good portion of Jason's time there trying to figure out exactly how he _should_ react, stood staring at her, his face completely expressionless. He knew that if she wanted, she could reach out and find out on her own where he stood on things. He also knew that if she wanted, she could make sure he stood exactly where she wanted him to. More than either of these, he knew that she would do neither and this knowledge made him crave her closeness.

As he stepped forward, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him. Her arms went around his waist and she rested her forehead on his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said to his chest.

He slowly stroked her hair with his face, breathing in her smells.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was for your friend?" He said into her hair. "You put a lot of instinct to the test and just happened to luck out. You could've gotten your friend hurt...or worse."

She took in a deep breath, the smell of his clothes, the shampoo he'd used, his skin, all mingled together and she found it difficult to think clearly for a moment. Finally, she raised her head, looked him in the eyes and answered.

"You wouldn't have hurt him," she said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"How can you be so sure? Do you realize what kind of chain reaction happens inside of us when there's a warm body sitting there and we're told that it's a skinwalker?"

"Um, the same chain reaction that happens when there's a warm body sitting there and you're told that it's a succubus?" she asked, her tone was slightly sarcastic.

Dean tilted his head and his eyes narrowed, lips tight.

"Ok, that's not fair and you know it," he said after unclenching his jaw.

"Oh, it's fair. If you hadn't known me before you found out what I was, your reaction would have been what your instincts dictated. The truth though, is that you'd have never known because I _am_ different...just like Jason is different. There seem to be two things you're not looking at in this equation."

Dean fought the urge to point his attention to her breasts and ask her what those had to do with anything and focused on the argument instead. Sometimes _not_ being a smart ass was just as much work as being one.

"What exactly am I not looking at?" he asked, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"Number one, do you honestly believe that I'd associate with a shapeshifter if it _wasn't_ different from the others? And number two, do you think I'd have brought him here and put him in front of you if I didn't trust you completely?"

The second question was like a slap in the face for him. Dean had been so wrapped up in making sure that he did his best to trust her that he never gave a second thought to her trust in him, or Sam for that matter. Once again, he felt like a complete and total ass. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Okay, how about we agree that the next time there's gonna be a surprise like that, you let me know ahead of time? Sammy's a bit more receptive to this whole thing, but me? Not so much. I'd just rather _not_ be surprised...not with something like that. Deal?"

"Deal!" She sealed it with a quick kiss then smiled a broad smile. "Now, to call Jackie and see if she can make it for dinner tomorrow night."

She kissed him again before turning to find her cell phone.

Dean knew he had a call to make too and impulsively took his own cell phone from his pocket. He hadn't given _this_ conversation near as much thought as he'd already given the one he was planning to have with Jackie tomorrow, yet even as he was scrolling through his contacts to find the number, he didn't dwell on what he was going to say. Finding the name he was looking for, he pressed the call button and put the phone to his ear.

It rang three times before he got an answer and Dean briefly wondered if his call was being screened.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said, his tone approaching apologetic.

Silence. Just when he was about to speak again, Bobby spoke up.

"Hey…uh, you boys alright?" Bobby asked as if he had been taken by surprise.

Dean figured that he probably had been, considering their parting words. Releasing a quick sigh, he responded with as much enthusiasm he thought he could get away with without looking like an idiot.

"Yeah, yeah…we're good. You?"

"I could complain, but no one would listen," Bobby said. It was one of his favorites to use and typically there was just a tad of truth in it. This was time was no exception.

"Yeah, I hear ya. Hey, uh…listen, Bobby, I wanted to apologize for…well, you know…but I also wanted to tell you that you're still wrong about her."

Silence again…so Dean continued.

"She _is_ an exception. You might wanna start considering the possibility that there might be other exceptions out there too…not just of her kind, but others."

The tone Dean used told Bobby that, if nothing else, Dean believed what he was saying. The real question among all others that had begun bubbling up was, could Bobby believe it?

"I know how it sounds, believe me! And I don't expect you to be convinced with just a phone call, but I wanted to let you have at least that much to chew on until we get back on track," Dean said as if he knew the questions that were running through Bobby's mind.

"What do ya mean, 'back on track'?" Bobby said suspiciously.

"Well, it looks like we're gonna be here another few days. Sammy's doing some pretty intense research and I'm sure when he's done we're gonna need to get together with you to discuss some things."

Bobby thought of a lot of things he _could_ say in response, but nothing that would be welcomed. After running the gauntlet of "statements that will insure getting hung up on", he opted to keep things simple.

"I guess I'll be hearing from you two in a few days then," Bobby said a little more coldly than he'd planned.

"Yeah, talk to ya then," Dean said before abruptly disconnecting the call.


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Notes:** _You already know that I don't own these characters, but there...I've said it again. I'd love to hear whether or not this is going where you thought or hoped it would, so please, read, enjoy and don't be shy about leaving reviews. It's the only way I have of knowing whether or not you like it so far. :)

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**Chapter 45**

Dean held the phone and looked at it as though it had just insulted him. "Huh," he said to the empty room as he pocketed his phone again.

"Something wrong?" Meranda asked walking in from her bedroom. She had quietly made her way there to call Jackie when she'd seen him going through his phone so they could both have some degree of privacy.

He turned to her and smiled. "Nah...nothing important," he said in a less than convincing tone.

"He'll come around," she said, walking into the kitchen. "Just give him some time."

"Yeah, I hope so, but...honestly, I don't know."

"Dean, you have to realize that you're asking him to –," she began.

"I know what I'm asking him to do," Dean cut her off, his frustration apparent. "I'm asking him to do what _I've _done…trust. I don't necessarily expect him to trust _you_, but I damn sure expect him to trust _me_."

She walked to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. As he hugged her in return, he noticed that the moment they touched, it felt like the burden on his shoulders had not only lightened, but had also begun to dissolve.

"How do you do that? Is that part of what you are?" he asked openly.

"Do what?" she asked, honestly not understanding the question.

He thought momentarily about just brushing the whole incident off, but he knew that they needed to talk and he'd found himself in a talking mood. No need to waste it, especially when they were running out of time. This last fact motivated him into action and, more than that, dictated his approach.

"Are you taking energy from me?" Dean asked, trying his best not to sound accusatory.

Her brow instantly furrowed. "No, why?"

"It's just that…well, when you touch me…when we um, touch each other…it's like the stress just…disappears," Dean struggled to get the words out despite his attempt to be direct.

She leaned back and cupped his face in her hands, smiling. "No, I promise, that's _all_ you. You know, it'd save us a lot of time if you'd just realize that I'm not doing anything to manipulate the direction of things."

Dean released a heavy sigh, suddenly realizing that every moment he engaged in this conversation was going to require him to make a choice. Would he let his guard down and say what's on his mind and in his heart? Or, would he keep the walls up and spend the rest of his life wondering what could've been if he had let her in?

He closed his eyes before beginning to speak and kept them that way until he finished. "Sammy has this 'theory' that maybe you somehow put our, um, our emotions on like...a fast track. Like when you marked us, you somehow were able to speed things up as far as how we feel. That we'd feel this way anyway if given enough time. Is this making any sense or am I the rambling idiot that I feel like I am?"

She kissed him gently and smiled, her affection for him heavy in her eyes. "It makes _perfect_ sense. That's actually the one of the better descriptions that I've heard."

"So, is there like, I don't know…maybe a way to slow it down so I can get a grip on it? 'Cause honestly, it's like having a rocket strapped to your back…not that I don't _wanna_ have these feelings," he quickly added. "It's just that…well, it's a little _powerful_ at times, you know?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin to try slowing it down. But I _can_ take away some of the anxiety that it's causing if you'd like," she offered with concern in her eyes.

Dean had already experienced that ability of hers at the hotel and knew that it worked. Again, he had a decision to make and, feeling the wall inside him soften a bit, he nodded. Even though he knew he'd made the right choice, he felt a twinge is his gut that didn't quite tell him that he shouldn't have taken the path he chose, as much as it asked if he was sure that was what he wanted to do.

She smiled and kissed him again. "Just so you know, you have the same effect on _me_ and I'm fairly sure I know why."

Dean's brow furrowed and he tilted his head in question.

"Well, at the risk of _really_ scaring you off…" she averted her eyes to the floor, took in a deep breath and gathered her courage before finally looking into his eyes.

She knew that, for Dean, keeping himself guarded and cut off from anyone who might have an opportunity to hurt him was his nature. The only way he felt he could prevent inevitable pain was to keep those at bay that _he_ might feel something for. She also knew that attitude would lead him to a miserable and lonely existence, and just it wasn't in her to love him without wanting desperately to spare him that.

"I love you," she shrugged, hoping with everything she had that he wouldn't bolt.

When Dean heard those words, he felt a comforting warmth grow inside him and he laughed nervously. He put his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and breathed in a cleansing breath. At that moment, nothing else mattered and Dean felt as if the world had melted away from around them leaving just the two of them, together.

Her arms were still around his waist and she reached from within to relieve him of what she expected to be a tidal wave of dread, anxiousness and fear. She was surprised to find that there were so many other positive emotions flowing through him, including a sense of relief, that she had to sort through them to find what she was looking for. Once she located them, she was mindful to take just a fraction of only the angst from him and, with great control, she did so painstakingly slow in hopes of making his emotional ride less like a roller coaster and more like a peaceful coasting. She wanted this to be as "normal" for him as it could be and, for herself, she wanted to have as little influence over it as possible. She believed, and hoped, that she'd found the balance needed.

He opened his eyes and smiled into her face, cleared his throat and laughed nervously again before responding.

"I love _you_," he said, just above a whisper.

They stood in silence, just holding each other, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, basking in the complete and total comfort they seemed to suddenly be enveloped in…and again she quietly, gently took a tiny fraction more of his uneasiness. They both felt as though they could stay that way forever.

"So, where do we go from here?" Dean asked, breaking the silence. Dean knew that this talk was coming and part of him was actually glad that he'd had courage to be the one to ask.

She smiled and chuckled under her breath, then kissed him gently.

"How about dinner?" she asked.

"Dinner? I thought we had to talk about –," Dean started.

"In time...I promise. Right now, if it's okay with you, I'd like to just enjoy _this_," she said, smiling and placing her palm on his chest.

Dean opened his mouth as if to respond, but whatever words he thought about speaking dissolved into a smile and he nodded then kissed her forehead and breathed in her scent. _If nothing else, she's gonna teach me some patience_, Dean thought.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that we've lost Sammy for the night," Dean said, looking down the empty hallway.

"Hmmm...well, he's still gonna have to eat. He'll need the fuel to focus. How do homemade cheeseburgers sound?" Meranda offered.

Dean's eyes lit up and, at once, his mouth watered, so much so that he could only answer with a smile and a nod.

"Oh! We've still got some bacon in here if you wanna have a bacon cheeseburger instead," she said, looking up from the fridge. With that suggestion, she watched whatever part of him that had been distracted with the impending conversation all but vanish, leaving the food lover in its stead.

Dean stepped up behind her, nuzzled his face into her hair and found her ear. "Are you trying to turn me on?" he asked, half-joking.

"And fries…," she said in a playfully seductive tone as she ran her hand through his hair to the back of his head, pulling him gently to her, "Dripping in grease…covered in salt…and drizzled with ketchup."

Dean released a mock growl as he pulled her to him suddenly, causing her to shriek with laughter, which was music to his ears. He quickly kissed her, then let her go so she could finish in the refrigerator.

As she began taking things from the fridge and placing them on the counter, Dean joined in the preparations for dinner, putting a frying pan on the stove and getting utensils out. They found a smooth and comfortable rhythm and worked in harmony with each other.

"So, will Jackie be here for dinner tomorrow?" Dean asked, sounding hopeful.

Meranda stopped in mid-movement and looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

"Why, Mr. Winchester, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were looking forward to her company," she said with a thick, Southern drawl and a sly smile.

"Yeah, well, I've got some things I'd like to talk to her about," Dean replied sheepishly, quickly making himself busy with dinner.

Meranda smiled and resumed the task at hand.

"Then you'll be pleased to know that she _will_ be joining us. She's actually gonna show up a little early to help with preparations."

Dean's mind instantly became consumed with thoughts of what he should say, but more importantly _how_ he should say it. He knew that Jackie would be resistant, especially if he presented himself with the same attitude that he'd demonstrated to her in the past. Of course, that was before he'd come to realize that they truly were on the same side and he hoped that this revelation would serve to guide him where she was concerned.

"Oh, good," he responded, sounding uncharacteristically excited about it.


End file.
